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emjayewrites · 3 months

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Private Landing (Lewis Hamilton Fanfic) (3/?)

SUMMARY: In the high-speed world of Formula One, Lewis Hamilton subtly introduces a mysterious partner via Instagram after a slight mishap during an interview. Sparking media intrigue, everyone wants to know: who is the enigmatic figure that calls herself Mrs. Hamilton?

INSPO: this post

PAIRINGS: Sir Lewis Hamilton x Aurora "Rorie" Phillips-Hamilton (faceclaim is Justine Skye)

WARNINGS: drama, angst, sexual content, formula one b.s., pre-established relationship (with flashbacks). RATED M (18+)

TAGLIST: @queenshikongo3 @cocobutterqwueen @httpsserene @mauvecherie-writes @galatially @pausmoon @a-moment-captured @nikki01234 @yeea-nah @sirlew44 @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @weetjy @lewisroscoelove @hxneyclouds @questionable-behaviour @marzzrambles @lovebittenbyevans @tian-monique @alika-4466 @saintslewis @cherry2stems @mitruscity @burberryfilms @planetmimi @woderfulkawaii @d3kstar @liamundi @trinitoldyouso @scorpiobleue @pharaohanubis0 @certifiedlesbianbaddie @blveeeeeee @sugardontbesweet @omgsuperstarg @bluesole16 @serpenttines-library @peyiswriting @royallyprincesslilly @galatially @jasmindaughteroftheworld @laptiteantillaise

A/N: Please let me know if you want to be added/removed from the taglist. The headers/dividers are by @inklore

CHAPTER 3: Nowhere to Hide, Baby

Flashback to October 2018, Manhattan

The dim lights of the bar at SoHo House illuminated the room, casting an amber glow onto every surface, and Lewis couldn't help but feel a tinge of excitement coursing through his veins. This year marked a turning point in his racing career, he was on the precipice of winning his fifth World Driver's Championship, and he was determined to savor every moment of it.

Seated at the sleek wooden bar, Lewis tapped his fingers aimlessly against the smooth surface, replaying the day's events in his head. From seeing his face plastered across Times Square to back-to-back interviews, it had been a long day full of press obligations. But despite his exhaustion, he couldn't shake off the adrenaline coursing through him for this week's race in Austin, Texas.

And then, amidst the chatter and clinking of glasses, Lewis's gaze landed on her. She stood among her coworkers, her vibrant red midi dress catching his eye like a beacon in the dark. Her mischievous laughter and sparkling eyes drew him in, captivating him completely. The noise of the bar faded into the background as he focused solely on this enchanting woman before him.

His eyes scanned her body hungrily, appreciating every curve and how the color of her dress complemented her deep skin tone. Lewis was known for his love of women, some would say too much as rumors swirled about his revolving door of relationships. But after an eight-year-long relationship, what else was a man to do? His most recent "flavor of the month" was rapper Nicki Minaj - he enjoyed her bold personality and unapologetic confidence, but he knew she wasn't wifey material. They were just casual, so nothing really mattered anyway.

Driven by an irresistible force, Lewis found himself standing up from his seat and striding confidently towards her. As he closed the distance between them, a symphony of emotions stirred within him - excitement, nerves, and vulnerability. He had conquered countless racetracks, but this was uncharted territory.

With each step, Lewis exuded swagger and cockiness. When he reached her side, interrupting her conversation with friends, he mustered all the confidence he had left and extended his hand towards her.

"I'm Lewis," he introduced himself with a charming grin. He watched as her big, brown eyes skimmed over his hand before meeting his gaze. She had an inscrutable expression on her stunning face, but he knew that his usual dazzling smile and flirty batting of eyelashes could make any woman melt at his feet. So surely, she wouldn't be any different, right?

"I couldn't give any fucks," she declared boldly before taking a long sip of her martini. "Isn't it rude to barge into someone's conversation?"

Well damn, excuse me, he thought, taken aback by her brazenness.

He nodded slowly, dropping his hand at his side and biting the inside of his cheek. For the first time in a while, he had met someone who wasn't swayed by his charm. And yet, there was something about her that made him crave her attention and approval. She maintained an air of nonchalance as their eyes locked in a silent standoff.

"My apologies," he responded with a playful smirk, breaking the tension. "Can we start over?"

She chuckled, surprised and intrigued by his audacity. On the other hand, her friends were wide-eyed and nudging her, probably trying to figure out who he was. But despite it all, Lewis couldn't help but admire her confidence and effortless grace. Placing a finger on her chin, she hummed for a moment as if considering his request.

Her voice was low and seductive as she replied, "Sure..." causing him to inwardly cheer. "But only if you buy me another drink."

"Deal," he said quickly, leaning against the bar beside her and signaling the bartender for another round of drinks. "What brings you here tonight?" He couldn't hide his curiosity, his genuine interest shining in his eyes.

She shrugged casually. "Just winding down after a long day at the office," she answered, finishing her martini with a satisfied sigh before setting the empty glass on the counter. "I don't usually frequent bars like this, but my coworkers insisted on celebrating a recent success."

Lewis nodded, mesmerized by the way her eyes danced with mischief when she spoke. He couldn't resist the urge to challenge her. "Well, I'm glad they did," he said smoothly,his thumb lightly caressing her exposed skin. "Otherwise, I wouldn't have had the chance to meet someone as beautiful as you."

She raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by his smooth talk. "You must be a real ladies' man," she remarked dryly.

Lewis chuckled. "I have my moments," he admitted with a smirk.

"I'll bet," she replied sarcastically. "So what do you do for a living?"

"I work with cars," Lewis responded casually, keeping his true job as a highly respected Formula One driver a secret, at least for now.

"Oh, a car guy," she said with a smirk of her own. "I guess that explains the cocky attitude."

Lewis couldn't help but laugh at her quick wit. He was intrigued by her and wanted to get to know her better. "What's your name?"

She glanced at him with a sly smile before answering, "Why don't you guess?"

"Hmm…" Lewis pretended to think for a moment before responding with a teasing tone. "Is it Angelina Jolie? Because you're definitely an angel."

She rolled her eyes playfully at his cheesy pick-up line but couldn't hide the small smile forming on her lips.

"Nope, not quite," she replied with a grin. "But nice try. My name is Aurora, but I go by Rorie."

"Rorie," he repeated in a deep voice. Although he was a cocky bastard, she couldn't deny that his British accent was incredibly sexy.

"Yeah," she said, glancing away to search for her friends. With his sexy voice and intense gaze, she felt herself melting, which was unusual because she never cracked under pressure. She quickly spotted her friends in a nearby booth and was about to gesture for them to come back over when he spoke again.

"A gorgeous name for a gorgeous woman," he flirted, his hands leaving her forearm to lightly graze the side of her face – something that made her extremely uncomfortable.

"What the hell do you think you're doing—"

"Do you know what would make your name even more beautiful, Aurora?" he interrupted with a smug smile.

Amused, she rolled her eyes and asked, "What?"

"My last name attached to it."

Rorie's fame and influence were rapidly growing, captivating audiences all over the world. The media was obsessed with her, from interviewing her childhood friends to writing detailed pieces about her upbringing in Williamsport. It seemed like everyone couldn't get enough of her.

But with this level of attention came its own set of challenges for Rorie. She was constantly under a microscope, with every aspect of her life scrutinized and analyzed.

Despite their hectic schedules, Rorie and Lewis were determined to make their marriage and family work. However, with both of them immersed in their respective careers, worry crept into Rorie's mind.

Still, she couldn't contain her excitement as she awaited news from Yael about a potential partnership with Lancôme. After a successful meeting with the company, she eagerly waited for more details on the lucrative collaboration. Meanwhile, Lewis was preparing for his upcoming trip to England for the Silverstone race. He made sure to spend quality time with Rorie and Lyric before departing, knowing he would be away for some time.

As was their custom whenever he was home, Lewis and Rorie woke up early to go for a jog through the streets of Monaco. The sun was just starting to rise, casting a golden glow over the picturesque city. They ran side by side, taking in the beautiful views of the ocean and the luxurious yachts docked in the harbor. As they jogged, they talked about their plans for the day and caught up on each other's lives. Rorie couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness knowing that Lewis would soon be leaving for his race in England. She cherished these moments together and wished that they could spend more time as a family, but she also knew that Lewis's career was important to him and she didn't want to hold him back.

She supported him wholeheartedly, just as he did for her.

"You got it, move that ass!" Lewis cheered her on as they ran up a steep hill near their home. He playfully smacked her butt a few times, making her swat his hand away. "You always struggle with this hill, even though we've done it over a thousand times," he teased.

"Shut up," she replied, gasping for breath as she paused to wipe the sweat off her forehead. Staying in shape was important to her, but running up hills was her weakness. She placed her hands on her knees and bent over to catch her breath. Her braids, pulled back into a high ponytail, swung into her face.

"You okay, babe?" asked Lewis as he knelt beside her. Despite the sweat dripping down his face and darkening his gray muscle shirt, he still looked incredibly attractive. She couldn't help but give him a thorough once-over.

"I'm fine," she replied with a smirk. "But don't act like you're not enjoying the view as much as I am."

Lewis clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "Here I am trying to check on you and you're already trying to flirt with me. Shameful." He leaned in for a quick kiss before helping her stand back up.

Rorie chuckled, the sound laced with a hint of seduction. "Well, baby," she began, her voice dropping to a sultry tone, "you're just too damn sexy for me not to try and flirt with you." She reached out and ran her fingers through the sweat-dampened hair at the nape of his neck, causing a shiver to ripple down his spine.

Lewis couldn't help but smirk, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Oh really? And here I thought I was just being a concerned husband."

Rorie stepped closer, the heat between them palpable. "Concerned or not, I know what you're thinking," she whispered, her breath dancing across his lips. "You want me as much as I want you."

Unable to resist any longer, Lewis pulled her into a passionate kiss. Their lips melded together, their tongues dancing in harmony as their bodies pressed against each other. His hands trailed sensually along her curves.

Rorie moaned into his mouth, surrendering to the pleasure coursing through her body, and deepened the kiss, pressing herself even closer to him.

They had been married for four years, but their chemistry was still as intense and intoxicating as it was when they first met. Rorie couldn't help but feel grateful that she had found someone who not only loved and supported her but also lit a fire within her like no one else could.

As they reluctantly broke apart for air, Lewis rested his forehead against hers. "God, I love you," he breathed out.

"I love you too," Rorie replied with a smile.

"What the fuck?" Lewis's eyes flickered behind Rorie, causing her to turn around. "Look over there. Who is that?" Lewis's voice was tense as he pointed to a man near a parked car, taking photos of them.

Rorie tried to appear composed, and she squinted in an attempt to identify him, but all she could make out was a mass of unruly curls that seemed vaguely familiar. "I have no idea," she responded. "Maybe some strange paparazzo?"

"In our neighborhood, babe? When have you ever seen paparazzi? They shouldn't even be out here; it's illegal."

Lewis glanced back at the man, who was now walking away with his camera. "I don't like this," he muttered, pulling Rorie closer to him protectively.

"Me neither," Rorie agreed, her heart racing with unease. "Let's just go home and forget about it."

But as they made their way back to their house, Rorie couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched. She kept looking over her shoulder nervously, but there was no sign of the paparazzi or anyone else.

Once they were safely inside their house, Lewis locked all the doors and windows before turning to Rorie with a concerned expression.

"Do you think someone is following us?" he asked, his voice serious.

"I don't know," Rorie replied with a shrug. "But let's not jump to conclusions. Maybe it was just a random guy trying to get some scandalous photos for money."

Lewis didn't look convinced, but he didn't press the matter further. Instead, he pulled Rorie into a comforting hug.

"I'll always protect you, no matter what," he whispered into her ear.

Rorie smiled and snuggled closer to him. "I know you will."

But even as she tried to relax in his arms, her mind kept going back to the mysterious man with the camera. Who was he and why was he taking pictures of them? And more importantly, how did he even know where they lived?

Lewis seemed to know exactly what she was thinking and offered a solution. "I'll arrange for extra security at the house while I'm away."

"That would be great," she responded sincerely.

"Actually, why don't you and Lyric join me at Silverstone? It's a safe place, and my parents will also be there."

He gently held her face in his hands and gazed into her eyes with intensity. "And Kaiden and Willow will be there too. It's been too long since Lyric has seen his cousins."

Rorie rolled her eyes playfully. "It's only been two months."

"Exactly, that's too long."

Rorie hesitated for a moment before nodding in agreement. She trusted Lewis to keep her safe, and she didn't want to deprive Lyric of spending time with his cousins.

"Okay," she said finally. "We'll go."

Lewis grinned. "Thank you."

Rorie navigated through the busy crowds in the Silverstone paddock, where fans were eagerly anticipating the start of the British Grand Prix. The electric atmosphere was a testament to the prestige of this legendary track and its significance in the world of Formula One racing. For Lewis, Silverstone held special memories as the place where he had achieved some of his greatest victories, and she had no doubt he would continue to excel this weekend. This race was crucial for him - not just because it was his home Grand Prix, but also because he aimed to overtake Red Bull and claim P1.

She scanned the sea of helmets on the pit lane and felt a surge of pride as she spotted her husband's iconic helmet design, emblazoned with the number 44. She could see Lewis amidst the chaos, his muscled frame a stark contrast against the sea of mechanics, engineers, and crew members swarming around him. Despite the recent attention on their marriage, she knew that he would always be the same person she fell in love with - determined, passionate, and unwaveringly loyal.

"Mrs. Hamilton!" a lively voice with an Australian lilt chimed in singsong, causing her to shift her attention towards one of her other beloved drivers on the grid - Daniel Ricciardo; his toothy grin and bright brown eyes lighting up the room.

Rorie smiled and hugged him warmly. Her friendship with Daniel went beyond the racing world - they had bonded over their love for music and art, often exchanging playlists and art recommendations.

"How are you, Dan?" she asked as they pulled away from the embrace.

"Can't complain," he replied with a shrug. "How are you? How's my nephew?"

Rorie smiled at the mention of Lyric. "He's doing great, but he's getting to be a pain in my ass. He discovered the word 'no' last weekend so he's been using it quite often."

"Like father, like son," Daniel joked.

Rorie laughed and playfully swatted his arm. "Hey, Lewis is not that bad."

"Oh, I know," Daniel said with a smirk. "But it's always so much fun teasing you about it."

Rorie rolled her eyes but couldn't help smiling at their banter. They chatted for a few more minutes before Lewis joined them, dressed in his racing suit and helmet in hand.

"Hey mate," Daniel greeted him with a pat on the back. "Feeling confident for your home race?"

Lewis grinned. "Always."

A swell of admiration coursed through Rorie as she observed her husband seamlessly interact with his fellow racers. Despite their fierce competition on the track, they all shared a deep bond off it - a quality she found endearing about the world of Formula One.

Lewis gave Rorie one last kiss before heading out onto the track for the race. The paparazzi went into a frenzy, their cameras flashing wildly to capture the moment between the famous race car driver and his stunning wife. Rorie then made her way to their private box overlooking the starting grid, where she would watch the race alongside Lewis's family. She greeted Lewis's father, Anthony, with a warm hug and kiss on the cheek before turning to his stepmother, Linda.

"Rorie dear, you look radiant," Linda gushed, grasping her hands in hers. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm feeling great, thank you," Rorie replied with a smile. "Excited for the race."

Linda beamed. "I can't believe this is Lewis's home race. It feels like just yesterday he was just starting in karting."

Rorie nodded in agreement. "Time flies."

Their conversation was interrupted by the excited squeals of Kaiden and Willow as they ran up to them.

"Auntie Rorie!" Willow exclaimed, throwing herself into Rorie's arms for a hug.

Rorie chuckled and hugged her back tightly before ruffling Kaiden's hair.

"Hey there champ," she said with a wink.

Kaiden beamed up at her before running off to Lyric who was playing with his toy cars on the floor.

"You know they adore you," Linda commented with a smile as she watched the children play with Roscoe.

"I adore them too," Rorie replied sincerely.

Nicolas greeted his sister-in-law with a handshake, flashing a grin at her. "Hey sis," he said.

Rorie mirrored his gesture and replied, "Hey bro."

He chuckled. "You still remember our secret handshake, huh?"

"Of course," Rorie laughed. "It's one of those things you never forget."

Rorie settled into her seat next to Linda and Anthony, eagerly anticipating Lewis's race. The air was charged with excitement as the drivers revved their engines on the starting grid. As soon as the lights went out, they shot off down the track in a blur of speed and color.

"He's doing well so far," Anthony remarked, checking the live updates on his phone.

"Of course he is," Rorie replied proudly, her gaze fixed on Lewis's car as it weaved its way through the other racers.

The race was intense and nerve-wracking, but ultimately ended with Lewis securing a third-place finish. The crowd erupted into cheers and applause as he crossed the finish line.

It wasn't the place everyone wanted for Lewis, especially at his home race, but at least he made podium. Rorie excused herself and made her way toward the pit lane, where the drivers were being interviewed by the media.

Amid the chaotic scene, Carmen, George's girlfriend, and Lily, Alex Albon's girlfriend, were engaged in conversation near the pit wall. When Rorie approached, Carmen's eyes lit up and she immediately pulled her into a tight embrace. Lily joined in as well, welcoming Rorie with a warm smile.

"Oh my gosh, it's been so long since we've seen you!" Carmen exclaimed with genuine excitement. "We have so much to catch up on!"

She hadn't seen Carmen and Lily in person since the Monaco Grand Prix.

"I know, it's been too long," Rorie replied, hugging them back. "How have you both been?"

"Busy as always," Lily replied with a laugh. "Alex has been training non-stop for this race."

Carmen nodded in agreement. "And George has been working hard too. It's been tough with all the changes in the regulations this season."

Rorie listened intently as they talked about their partners' racing careers and the challenges they faced in the sport.

"How about you?" Lily asked, turning to Rorie. "How's everything with Lewis going?"

Rorie smiled softly at the mention of Lewis. "Everything is great. He's doing well and I'm really proud of him."

"I can imagine," Carmen said with a smile. "I saw the pictures of you attending shows at Paris Fashion Week. You looked stunning."

"Thank you," Rorie responded modestly. "It was all my team. I was just wearing the clothes."

"Well, you were definitely wearing them, Ro," complimented Lily. "That dress for Jean Paul Gaultier is my personal fave."

The conversation then turned to their plans of meeting up for dinner and the possibility of planning a girls' trip. After saying goodbye to Carmen and Lily, Rorie went inside the Mercedes garage where Lewis was still busy debriefing with his engineers.

"Hey babe," Lewis greeted Rorie with a kiss on her cheek as soon as he saw her.

"Hey Pookie," Rorie replied with a grin. "You did amazing out there."

Lewis shrugged nonchalantly. "Could've done better."

Rorie rolled her eyes playfully at his competitive attitude before reminding him about their plans for the evening.

"Oh right, I almost forgot about dinner," Lewis said with a smile. "I'll be done in an hour or two then we can leave to get ready."

Tonight's occasion was not just any ordinary dinner; it was a pre-celebration of Lyric and Rorie's birthday next week with Lewis' family.

"Alright, sounds good."

As promised, an hour and a half later, Lewis emerged from the garage, ready to head back to their hotel.

The dinner was held at a fancy restaurant near Piccadilly Circus in London. As they made their way into the private dining room, Rorie was met with warm hugs and beaming smiles from Lewis' sisters Samantha and Nicola, as well as his mother, Carmen.

"Happy early birthday, babe!" Nicola exclaimed as she handed Rorie a beautifully wrapped package.

Rorie's face lit up with surprise and gratitude as she opened the gift to a personalized photo album filled with memories from their past vacations and family gatherings. Rorie flipped through the pages of the photo album, and she couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with emotion. Every photo captured a special memory, from their trip to Greece where Lewis proposed to her to their recent family trip to Bali. She couldn't believe how much her life had changed since meeting Lewis.

"Thank you so much," Rorie said, wiping a tear from her eye.

"We had so much fun putting this together," Carmen replied with a smile. "It's not every day that my son meets someone as amazing as you."

Rorie's cheeks warmed at the compliment and hugged Carmen tightly. She was grateful to have such a supportive second family in Lewis' family.

The rest of the night was spent catching up and enjoying each other's company over delicious food and drinks.

Anthony and Linda surprised Lyric with an electric toddler car, causing Lewis to burst into laughter.

"Dad, what is this?" he exclaimed between chuckles as he watched his father place Lyric into the miniature car. "No way! Are you serious?"

Anthony's expression remained serious. "Why are you laughing? I'm just trying to get him ready," he replied, turning to his grandson. "A few more years and we'll have you racing on a track, Lyric."

Lyric babbled out a reply, his small hands fiddling with the steering wheel.

"He can barely talk and you've got my son driving for Merc?" Lewis chuckled, shaking his head in mock disapproval at his father. "What if he wants to be a footballer or something?"

"Pfft." Anthony gave him a dismissive wave, his fingers already moving deftly over the car's controller. "No way, he's going into the family business."

Rorie and Lewis exchanged a meaningful look, both knowing what the other was thinking. He wanted Lyric to have nothing to do with Formula One, and he knew how passionate his father could get. They had talked about it before, but Lewis was hesitant to bring it up with his father, especially in front of everyone, yet he realized that he had to have that conversation soon.

The low hum of the car's engine filled the air, distracting them both, and Lyric's little fingers held the wheel with determination as the vehicle started to move.

Lewis couldn't help but feel pride as he watched his son confidently sit in the car. "He's a natural," Lewis remarked with a smile.

"Of course, he is," Anthony interjected, "after all, he's a Hamilton."

Rorie and Lewis set off on a short getaway to Ibiza, basking in the warmth of the tropical sun with a group of friends. The island welcomed them with open arms, its crystal clear waters sparkling in the light. They spent their days lounging on a luxurious yacht and their nights engulfed in music, dancing, and laughter.

Amidst the joyful celebration, Rorie received the incredible news from Yael that Lancome had selected her as their newest brand ambassador. As if that wasn't enough, Bustle magazine also reached out for an exclusive interview with her.

But just when she thought things couldn't get any better, it was time for her 30th birthday bash. To celebrate this special milestone, Lewis organized a lavish party at a trendy rooftop bar in London. Rorie's close friends and family, including her mother and sisters, were all in attendance.

As the elevator doors opened to the rooftop bar, Rorie was greeted with an incredible view of the London skyline.

"Happy birthday, my love," Lewis whispered into her ear, placing a gentle kiss on her cheek as they entered the venue.

Rorie's smile stretched from ear to ear as she looked around the room. The party was adorned with an array of flowers and colorful balloons. As she mingled through the well-dressed crowd, Rorie was greeted with numerous hugs and congratulatory messages from her friends and family. She couldn't contain her happiness as she took in the beautiful setting - this was a night that would be etched in her memory forever.

Hailey Bieber approached Rorie with her shining eyes, a deep sense of happiness gleaming from her face. She hugged Rorie tightly, whispering, "Happy birthday, Rorie! You deserve all this success and happiness, and I'm so proud of you!"

Rorie stepped back from the hug, her eyes glistening with tears of joy. "Thank you, Hailey," she said with a grateful smile. "You've always been there for me, through thick and thin."

Hailey returned the smile, placing a hand on Rorie's shoulder. "That's what friends are for. And we will continue to support you every step of the way."

After enjoying a delicious meal and drinks, it was time for Lewis to give a speech. He stood up in front of their loved ones and spoke about their journey together – from maintaining a long-distance relationship to building a life together. Rorie couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with emotion as Lewis openly expressed his love for her.

"And now," he concluded, "we stand here today celebrating Rorie's 30th birthday – a milestone that she will undoubtedly conquer with grace and style."

With a twinkle in his eye, Lewis came closer to Rorie, holding a small box wrapped in shiny silver paper. She eagerly took the box from him, her fingers tracing the delicate ribbon tied around it.

"What is it?" She asked, filled with excitement.

"Open it and find out," Lewis said with a grin.

Trembling with anticipation, Rorie untied the satin ribbon and slowly lifted the lid. Inside lay the keys to a brand-new G Wagon – something she had been dreaming of for months.

"Oh my god, Lewis!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him. "How did you manage this?"

He laughed, hugging her tightly. "Let's just say I have some connections."

Rorie pulled back to look at him in awe. "I can't believe this is real."

"It's all yours," Lewis said, kissing her forehead.

Rorie couldn't contain her happiness as she hugged him again. This truly was the best birthday ever. The crowd erupted into applause and cheers as Lewis directed Rorie to look over the railing, where her G-Wagon was parked with a big red bow on top.

"No fuckin' way! I love you so much, baby!"

Her husband chuckled. "I love you too."

The rest of the night was a blur of laughter, dancing, and celebrating with loved ones. Rorie couldn't stop smiling as she took endless pictures with her new car, feeling like the luckiest woman in the world.

The party had ended, and Rorie and Lewis said their goodbyes to the guests before heading back to their hotel room. They slipped into bed together, the soft glow of the moon shining through the curtains. As they cuddled under the warm blankets, reflecting on their wonderful memories, their son Lyric slept peacefully in between them.

"I can't believe I'm thirty years old," Rorie whispered, gazing up at the ceiling.

"And you don't look a day over twenty-two," he commented with a mischievous grin.

Rorie turned to face him, caressing his cheek with her hand. "You know, you've given me the best gift today – not just the car, but your love and support throughout all these years. I feel so lucky to have you as my husband."

Lewis smiled and wrapped his arms tighter around her. "I will always support you and be by your side, no matter what."

He leaned in for a kiss, but Lyric stirred in his sleep. They both laughed softly before settling back down.

"I can't wait to see what the next 30 years hold for me," Rorie said dreamily.

Lewis intertwined their fingers together and placed them over Lyric's chest. "Whatever comes our way, I know we'll conquer it together."

Lewis stirred in his sleep, feeling a pleasurable sensation in his lower extremities. He was in a daze, barely conscious of what was happening until he slowly opened his eyes and lifted the comforter. To his surprise, he discovered Rorie with his penis in her mouth.

Rorie looked up at him with a mischievous grin, her lips swollen from her ministrations. "Good morning, baby," she purred before taking him back into her mouth.

Lewis moaned softly, his hands tangling in her hair as she worked her magic. He could feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge. This was definitely not how he expected to start his day, but he wasn't complaining one bit. He let himself fully wake up and enjoy the sensation of her warm mouth on him.

Rorie loved the way his hands gripped her hair as his hips bucked against her. She had always enjoyed sucking him off, but this morning felt different – more intense, more passionate.

A low groan escaped Lewis' lips as he came hard into Rorie's mouth. She eagerly swallowed every drop, her tongue teasing him until he was gasping for air.

"Fuck, baby," he breathed out, his body still tingling from the intense orgasm.

Rorie crawled up to kiss him, her lips tasting of him. Lewis couldn't help but pull her closer, their bodies pressing together as they kissed deeply.

"I don't think I've ever had such a good wake-up call," he chuckled against her lips.

Rorie grinned and nipped at his bottom lip. "I aim to please."

"I should have bought you that G-Wagon sooner," he teased. "Who knew that a car would turn you into a lil' freak? I'll get you anything you want if this is the consequence."

"Anything?" she asked curiously.

"Yes," he replied, determinedly.

"Then give me another baby," she surprised him with her request.

They had just celebrated Lyric's first birthday in Monaco with a small gathering of loved ones and friends a few days ago, and now she wanted to start trying for a second. Lewis didn't object; he would be overjoyed to see her pregnant again. With their son being taken care of by Nina back home while they were at the Hungarian Grand Prix this week, it was the perfect time for them to try for another child.

"Are you serious?" he asked, his eyes shining with excitement.

Rorie nodded, a smile spreading across her face. "I've been thinking about it for a while now, since Paris."

"I can't believe this," Lewis exclaimed, pulling her into a tight hug. "You've made me the happiest man in the world."

"Well, don't get too ahead of yourself," Rorie laughed. "It might take some time for us to get pregnant again."

"I don't care," Lewis said firmly. "I'll wait as long as I have to, especially since I can fuck you exactly how I want."

"And that entails?" she asked breathlessly, her body already trembling with desire.

"Bending you over every surface," he whispered, causing her to shiver at his words. "Filling you up so much that my cum leaks down your leg. Making you nice and sore, fucking that tight pussy to shreds."

His lips found the sweet spot on her throat and sucked gently, making Rorie moan. She could feel herself getting wetter by the second, the anticipation of what was to come almost unbearable.

"How long before you have to go to quali?" she managed to ask, her voice slightly shaky.

"I have an hour," he replied with a wide smile, wagging his eyebrows suggestively. "Why? You want to go on a lil' ride of your own?"

Rorie couldn't help but giggle at his playful tone, despite the intense desire coursing through her veins. She nodded eagerly and let him lead her to straddle his hips, her knees digging into the soft mattress. His hands immediately went to grip her waist as she slowly lowered herself onto him, a moan escaping both their lips as they were fully connected.

Lewis leaned back against the headboard, his eyes locked on Rorie's as he lifted her up and down on his manhood. He wanted to savor every moment with his wife before they had to leave for qualifying and he ran his hands up and down her body, exploring every inch of skin that was exposed to him.

Gripping her hips tighter, he guided her movements as she rode him harder and faster. Every thrust sent sparks of pleasure through both of their bodies, their moans growing louder with each passing second.

"Fuck," Lewis cursed under his breath, his fingers digging into Rorie's hips as her walls tightened around him. "I love this pussy so much, baby."

"It's all yours, Sir," she moaned heavenwards as she met him thrust for thrust.

"Say that shit again, baby. Who's pussy is this?"

"Yours, Sir!" She leaned in closer, pressing her hands against Lewis' chest as she picked up speed.

He gave her a playful slap on her ass. "That's what I like to hear."

Rorie was lost in a sea of ecstasy, her mind consumed by the feeling of being utterly owned by her husband, as their bodies moved in perfect harmony, their breaths coming out in ragged gasps as they chased their release. Lewis could feel the familiar tightening in his balls and he knew he was about to come undone. He reached between them and rubbed circles on Rorie's clit, wanting to bring her over the edge with him.

"Oh god," she cried out as he hit just the right spot.

Lewis felt himself explode inside her, his body shaking uncontrollably as he came hard. Rorie followed suit seconds later, collapsing against his chest, her body still trembling from the intense orgasm they had just shared. She felt his heart beating rapidly against hers and couldn't help but smile at the thought that she was the cause of it.

Lewis pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead before sliding out of her, causing a small whimper to escape Rorie's lips. They lay there in silence for a few moments, savoring the afterglow of their lovemaking.

"That was amazing," Rorie finally broke the silence, pressing a kiss to his chest.

"It always is with you," Lewis replied, running his fingers through her hair. "But we should probably get ready for qualifying."

Rorie sighed, not wanting to break the intimate bubble they were in but knowing that Lewis was right. He had an important race coming up and needed to focus.

They got up from bed and quickly got dressed, both of them still stealing glances at each other as they moved around the room. Rorie couldn't help but feel grateful for this moment with her husband amidst his hectic racing schedule.

Rorie and Lewis strode onto the paddock together, causing a frenzy among fans and media alike. A stranger watched them closely from only a few feet away. For the past few weeks, he had been keeping a close eye on them, ever since a representative from The Sun called him with mysterious instructions to do so.

He answered his phone again, interrupting his watchful surveillance. "Hello?"

"Any updates?" the voice on the other end asked.

"No, I'm still digging," he replied, glancing back at Rorie and Lewis as they walked arm in arm towards the Mercedes garage.

"Well, keep me updated. We can't afford any mistakes this time, and try not to get caught. We're still cleaning up the mess from Monaco."

The stranger hung up and turned back towards the couple. He reached for his camera and discreetly took a snapshot of them before blending back into the bustling crowd.

TO BE CONTINUED.......

#sir lewis hamilton #emjayewrites #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton #sir lewis hamilton x black!reader #social media au #private landing #lewis hamilton x rorie hamilton #formula one fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 x black!reader #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton fanfiction

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problematicbyler · 3 months

Text

an incomplete history of byler sexuality discourse

and how widespread fandom purity culture and homophobia created a flourishing nsfw sub-fandom

some may call me chronically online, but i call myself a fandom historian. i've been a member of some fandom or another since i was about thirteen, and i've always been interested in the rise and fall of fandom discourse. though it's annoying in the moment it's happening, i think it's very interesting and telling to look back at the overall arcs and trends.

so, let's talk about the many times the fandom has cancelled people over byler sexuality, and how each level of "hornygate" has contributed to the growth of the proship/byler smut community.

(i use the term proship in its intended definition, which is to say, not "problematic shipping," but rather being pro-fiction, anti-censorship, and anti-harassment; it is a position of believing the fiction one creates or consumes doesn't reflect a person's real life beliefs or morals.)

i have been a stranger things lover since season 1, a byler shipper since season 2, and an active part of the byler community on tumblr since season 4. i'll mostly be focusing on post-season 4 discourse because that's what i've really been most present for and that was the period that really marked a turning point in the fandom.

seasons 1-3

i wasn't as plugged into fandom discourse back in the day, but the broad strokes of early discourse was mostly thinly veiled homophobia. claiming that it was sexualization to assume will or mike could be queer despite blatant queer coding, implying that analysts were no better than will's bullies to assume his sexuality, etc etc. people were criticized for shipping byler at all because they were so young (but these people naturally had no issue with mileven, so, again, homophobia).

season 4 (may-july 2022)

now, season 4. this is where byler was brought to the attention of a lot more fans, and stranger things' viewership reached wider than ever. the byler fandom on tumblr booms from 4k to 100k over the course of season 4's release.

this brought a lot of new people who have never been in fandoms before, people who never learned don't like don't read or your kink is not my kink and that's okay or ship and let ship.

or, a lot of times, people who had only been in fandoms for celebrities and bands, which tend to have different rules when it comes to shipping and sex, because they're real people. hence a lot of young antis' conflation of character with their actors, but that's a different rant.

so with a rapidly growing fandom, a show ripe for analysis, and the art of media literacy bleeding out on the ground in front of us, the hellscape of the fandom post-season 4 in 2022 followed as such:

august 2022

jo/kendra gate where two extremely popular analysts were called out for "sexualizing" byler while being adults (early to mid 20s). they were dogpiled and harassed because one of them said that will was giving mike "bedroom eyes" (he was) and one of them said mike was checking will out (he was):

pyshiie and moogate. the proship side of byler twitter rose up and started to divide itself. i'll credit my own joining-the-dark-side to pyshiie and moo, formerly barbjeanisms, who were two popular artists called out respectively for sexualizing byler and generally being proship. similarly, people were called out and criticized for even following or interacting with those accounts after this discourse.

september 2022

hosegate is the most famous across the byler fandom, and it's when some users proposed that the scene in the pizzeria uses phallic imagery to imply mike turns will on (or vice versa) and a lot of people thought that was too sexualized, it caused a divide, and more fanpolicing, etc.

october 2022

the artist noodlesandtea was harassed for having liked arguably nsfw bakudeku art (they were shirtless, it wasn't explicit) on the same account where they draw characters who are minors. they also drew byler kissing, which was a problem for some? anyone who defended them was also called a pedo, naturally. noodles also got called out for having drawn fanart of the popular e-rated fanfiction....

the unmarked mixtape. a massively popular sequel to a massively popular fic, the red envelope. for a long time, those were the most widely recommended byler fics, but it very soon became taboo to even admit to reading them because the sequel has explicit sex and the first has them making out.

sonnet116 gate is another fic that was beloved and then rapidly turned on by byler twitter because it had implied, fade to black sex scenes. it was about them hooking up but had no smut. and even the non explicit idea of that was offensive and pedophilic of anyone who dared read it. around this time, another fic was called out for having will moaning into a kiss, because writing a teenager moaning was also offensive and pedophilic.

i'm told i (jana / troublebyler gate?) may have influenced a lot of people joining twitter for byler smut after writing illicit affairs and some other smutty oneshots in rapid succession, seeing a lot of byler shippers moving to the proship side of the fandom just to discuss and write byler smut. i also hosted a little fandom gossip column on my curiouscat where a lot of folks confessed to reading or writing smut while pretending to be "normal" in the "main" fandom. it basically revealed/implied that a large amount of popular authors, artists, and accounts were secretly pro byler smut, and that many proshippers were "undercover" in the "main" fandom.

the blocklist era. around this time the "main" fandom also created a "st twt safety" account on twitter which was basically targeted harassment and mass reporting of proshippers. the account does warn of some genuine bad actors sending gore images via dms, being racist, etc. but by far, the majority of it was simply calling out proshippers for sexualizing byler, sharing screenshots they thought were "gross," which only resulted in spreading nsfw content to unintended audiences of minors that likely never would have seen the nsfw accounts otherwise.

november 2022

practice kissing gate is where a handful of popular fic writers were criticized for writing practice kissing fics (such as undertow), and in fact, any amount of byler making out, because adults "fantasizing" about teenagers kissing was "gross."

the proship corner of st twitter continued to grow a lot thanks to so many lovely fan creators, all of whom i couldn't possibly list but who have done a lot for the community! but we continued to get bombarded with endless callout posts and block lists and witch hunting. people were unabashedly policing people's following lists and likes on twitter to call people out for engaging with any questionable users or content. (if you search byler twitter now you can still see the wreckage of so many witch hunts.)

onward through 2023

over time things have mostly calmed down, or at least enough of the folks on "opposing sides" of the fandom have mutually blocked each other to survive. this is likely also influenced by the hiatus leaving the fandom to quiet down, the collapse of twitter-turned-x having many users migrate their fandom content elsewhere, and the mass exodus of many people from the fandom for political reasons. if i had to guess, the ramp-up to season 5 will see all new conflict as more "casual" fans return to the fandom. but who's to say.

which brings us to now:

spicybylerpolls gate, wherein the byler tag on tumblr collectively had to reckon with the fact that people want byler to have sex and it doesn't make them creeps to vote in silly polls about it. people criticized the blog for being overly sexualized and pure fantasy versus more "acceptable" analysis, with many making sweeping moralizing statements about anyone who dared interact with the blog.

this has kicked off tumblr's own sort of horny revolution in encouraging folks to be more open on here, whereas previously we were confined to our corner of twitter.

so in summary:

people over and over again put fan creators on a pedestal just to turn on them when they're "betrayed" when a person's views did not one-to-one line up to theirs.

teens in the fandom especially were "betrayed" by adults in the fandom they thought were "safe" (and i would argue that self proclaimed "safe" adults in fandom are far more dangerous to real life minors than the proship fans who sexualize fictional characters but dont interact with real teens)

most everything has been fueled by widespread ageism at any fan over the age of 18, widespread homophobia and puritanism in regards to exploring queer sexuality or discussing sex at all

so much hate has been over what are essentially "thought crimes", with people watering down serious accusations like pedophilia into a petty insult over disagreements on fiction

and the cycle repeats itself endlessly until things devolve back into witch hunting and policing peoples following and likes etc

the best part to me is that every single cancellation just resulted in more people flooding to the horny side of the fandom to post more freely and without shame. every time a person on twitter posted screenshots of my account to say how "gross" it was (while simultaneously exposing my 18+ nsfw content to their audience of minors) i had a surge in followers. the more the fandom squeezes, the more people slip from its hold.

but that doesn't make the harassment campaigns okay, and it doesn't mean the fandom didn't do massive amounts of harm to real people in an attempt to protect fictional characters.

my hope going forward is that the fandom can coexist as a community where people don't have to like or agree with certain content to treat the people who create it with respect and dignity. and i hope that, while this side of the fandom might grow more on tumblr, we don't have to relive the same old discourses and go through the same cycles we went through on twitter.

and remember kids, the block button is both free and fun.

#byler #spicy byler #fandom discourse #fandom history #stranger things #proship #profiction #proshipping #anti censorship #purity culture #fandom politics

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darthannie · 5 months

Text

day twenty-five: dom/sub dynamic with dom!raymond leon

pairing: Raymond Leon x f!Reader word count: 935 warnings: facefucking, use of “puppy” and “baby”, praise, begging, impact play, hair pulling, a/n: THE RETURN OF DAD’S BUSINESS FRIEND. I guess this can be seen as part two of the somnophilia fic. Also, listen we all know it’s not October but these will keep coming out whenever I want basically. They will all come out eventually please bear with me! <3

kinktober masterlist

Raymond liked to come to you when your dad wasn’t home. It was becoming increasingly difficult to find times that he wasn’t there. Over time, he had become quite in tune with the hours your father kept. He wasn’t always this lucky. He knew your father would be caught up elsewhere.

Your arrangement was straightforward. You were committed to each other, and no one else had to know. There were days when Raymond needed to exercise some more dominance over you and you gladly obliged. On the rare occasion, he opened up to you, he let you take care of him. Though, he rarely ever submitted and much preferred to take care of you.

When he arrived at your door he barged in. He found you reading on your bed. You put the book down and before you could say anything he grabbed your arm and took an hour from you. “Strip,” he said pointedly. You felt a bundle of nerves begin to form in your stomach. You always got nervous around him. Not because you thought he would hurt you, but because you wanted to please him. You didn’t want to lose him.

Right after he took the hour you got working. You didn’t even get off the bed when you started taking off your shirt. Your nipples hardened as you felt the cool air hit them. Your bottoms came off just as fast.

“On your knees. Quickly.” He stroked your head as you got on your knees and unbuttoned his pants. That one loving gesture was the fuel in your fire. He knew exactly how to get you in your place. He grabbed your head and started moving at his own pace.

“Good little puppy,” he drew out. You used your tongue in ways to make him shiver, making sure to do exactly what he liked. He continued moving, making you gag as he hit the back of your throat. He pulled your head towards him and held it there, making you choke. When he finally relented you gasped for air. Your chest heaved as you caught your breath desperately. He briefly considered putting himself back in your mouth but he took pity on you. He grabbed your chin so you could look up at him.

“Get on the bed. Hands and knees, you know the drill.”

“Yes Sir,” you said as you quickly followed his command. He grabbed your hips and pulled you towards him before you could find any balance. His hand found its way between your legs, running his fingers up and down your pussy.

He cupped you with his hand. “Whose is this?”

“Yours,” you said.

“Who owns this cunt?”

“You do, Sir.”

You moaned loudly as he thrust inside you quickly and didn’t move further. “Does my good girl want me to move?”

“Yes!”

“Not enough. Beg for it.” He punctuated his statement with a slap on your ass. You weren’t expecting him to spank you, and the shock of the impact caused you to move away from him. You took advantage and sunk back against him. That didn’t go unnoticed. He grabbed your hips and held you against him. “I said to beg.”

But you didn’t feel like begging.

Your silence was taken as defiance. He had enough and grabbed the hair at the nape of your neck pulling you up against him. You yelped as the pain shoved you back into submission. “You don’t wanna beg for me,” he whispered into your ear. You mewled and he lightly slapped your face. “No reason to beg?” His hips bucked up, making you moan loudly. “Puppy doesn’t want it?”

“I want it. I want it!” you cried. He slapped you again. The sting on your face was fuel to the fire. “Please fuck me. I need you to move. Please, please, please. Fuck. I’m yours, Sir. Please, move.” You sounded like you were on the verge of tears.

He let go of your hair and you fell to the bed. His hands rested on your hips as he started to move. His strokes were hard and fast. His groans were soft as he tossed his head back. You squeezed around him. “Such a good girl. Always such a good girl,” he repeated.

He pulled out and you moaned at the loss. He guided you on your back and brought your legs up on the bed. He crawled on top of you and found your entrance again. He gasped at the new angle. He looked into your eyes as he thrust into you slowly. He leaned down to kiss you. It was soft at first. He reeled you in with the tenderness. He deepened the kiss as his thrusts became faster and harder. He was close and so were you.

You spoke through your teeth, whining. “Raymond, cum in me.”

He groaned, “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and guided him into another kiss. He thrust in deep before summing inside you, filling you up as much as he could. He kissed your neck as you both caught your breath. You wondered if he would let you cuddle him after. If he would let the softer side of him take over. He sighed as he rolled off you, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. “He’s coming back soon you know.”

“I know,” you replied.

Just as you were about to get up he stretched out his arm, beaconing you to curl up against him. You knew you wouldn’t have much time, but you’d take what little you could get.

Taglist:

@devotedlyshadowytheorist, @dxnger-dxys, @tommyshelbywhore, @quinnlilias,@madnessandobsession, @mvpr-moon, @nela-cutie, @faebirdie, @charmed-asylum, @anasanthology, @ilikefictionalmen, @akanne-aka, @no-fooking-fighting,@queenofstresss, @flwrs4aust, @mrkdvidal1989, @00hsv, @laylasbunbunny

#kinktober ‘23 #annie writes #raymond leon x f!reader #raymond leon smut #raymond leon x reader #raymond leon #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy smut #cillian x reader

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beachylupin · 8 months

Note

hiya darling i saw your requests open and i just love love loved "i'd have you anytime" so i wanted to request a lil smth

Basically remus x artist reader....

I like to really draw the people i like (love) so my sketchbook is just filled with people whom i sometimes have a crush on or friends or family.

So i was thinkin, mutual pining where reader basically isn't very close to the marauders per say but knows them, acquaintances.

So reader draws a lot and i mean a LOT of remus in her sketchbook, like almost as if the sketchbook is made for him.

And one of the marauders (defo sirius) discovers this and obv tells remus and it's a whole fiasco but please end it w fluff?

Oh and ofc remus really likes reader aswell but just yk never says anything...

So yea thanks love :) i love the wya you write <33

listen, you've inspired me so much that i wrote this in a day. talk about a great turn around rate, eh? ;-D i really, really hope you enjoy this!! it's really just gushy word vomit on a screen <3 word count: 3k warnings: quickly edited, swearing, pining, fluffy, missing a private journal is stressful, happy ending!!

Sketched Out || Remus Lupin x Fem!Artist!Reader

You didn’t mean for it to end up like this. You caught a glimpse of him on the train at the beginning, and he had occupied your thoughts since.

Sure, you had known him and been in classes for years, but he had changed since you last saw him. Last year, he was tall and lanky, but now he was tall, lanky, and a wee bit broader, filling out his grandpa sweaters better. His buzz cut had grown out, revealing sandy brown curls. Who knew Remus Lupin had curls?

Daily, you watched Remus Lupin from the Hufflepuff table, busily drawing what you saw. In the classes you shared, you secretly sat behind him to draw just the back of his head, figuring out why his hair curled like that. Instead of taking notes, you drew. When you sat across from him, you’d find yourself distracted by the way he looked, paying more attention to him than to any old teacher.

New scars, patterned sweaters with messy robes, and smile lines from laughing at whatever stupid things James and Sirius were on about filled your pages.

By mid-October, at least fifty pages of your sketchbook was just him.

It was like your dirty little secret hidden under yellow leather.

Head down, you followed the group of Gryffindors down the corridor, your books laying haphazardly in your arms, when someone was shoved, flying into you.

“Oh!” You exclaimed, books and notebooks going flying in all directions.

“Sorry, love!” Sirius exclaimed, scrambling to pick your things up. “Didn’t mean to check ya!”

“It’s alright,” you mumbled, collecting the scatter of books, notebooks, quills, and firecrackers that had spilled from Sirius’ hands.

In the mix of the crowd rushing to classes, you exchanged the books and notebooks with Sirius.

“Hey, thanks!” He said, smiling brightly as he shoved the firecrackers in his pocket. “I’m happy these didn’t go off.”

You smiled tightly and nodded. “No problem,” you mumbled, getting shoved into him by someone passing by.

He steadied you then shouted, “Hey!” after them, throwing up a lewd gesture. “Are you alright?”

You nodded, smiling briefly.

“Good,” he said, checking his pocket watch. “Shit, I’m late.” He snapped the watch closed before taking off. “I’m sorry again!” He called to you over shoulder, running into yet another person. “Sorry!”

You smiled a tight lipped smile before walking away briskly to get to your class across the castle.

Potions was in the dungeons, and you slid your usual seat behind Remus, who was already there and sitting next to Peter, just in time, the door closing with a thud.

Glancing up at the back of his head, you sighed. His hood was wonky, and his hair had grown since you last drew him at this angle. You rifled through your things, searching for your sketchbook.

But it was missing.

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, tucking your hair behind your ears.

You checked the books again, hoping you had just misplaced it in the stack. You checked under the table, seeing nothing except a lost boomslang skin.

You sighed, trying to calm yourself. Maybe you had left it in your dorm room and forgot? That couldn’t be. You had all your books, including your sketchbook, at the house table before class.

You opened your potions book. The color drained from your face.

Sirius Orion Black, 1977 was scrawled on the front page along with the rest of the people who had checked out the classroom copy of this book.

Sirius had your potions book, and you knew for certain he had your sketchbook.

Feeling woozy, you let your head hit the table.

Sirius had your sketchbook filled with drawings of his best friend.

You thought you were going to throw up, a leaden feeling filling your belly. Squeezing your tear-pricked eyes shut, you lifted your head with your hands on your face.

“Hey, are you alright?” A muffled voice asked, and you peeked behind your fingers, staring your muse right in the face. “You look like you’re going to be sick.”

“Or cry,” Peter said, but you didn’t pay any attention to him.

“‘M fine,” you mumbled, taking your hands from your face to get the full picture of him.

Remus, his brown eyes full of worry, was staring at you, and all you wanted to do was take a mental snapshot so that you could sketch it when you got your sketchbook back.

If you got your sketchbook back.

“Did you forget your quill?” He asked, glancing at the table. “We’re revising today.”

You swallowed thickly, glancing at the table as well, no quill to be found. You nodded, looking back at him to find him already staring.

“I have extras,” he said, turning from you to reach in his bag. He grabbed one, as well as an ink pot, handing them to you. “Here.”

Your hand shook as you took it, smiling tightly. “Thank you,” you mumbled.

Remus’ gaze stayed on your hand, his brow furrowing again. “Are you sure you’re alright?” You nodded, staring down at your book. “Did you forget parchment?”

“No, I’m fine,” you lied. You thought your heart was going to beat right out of your chest. Trying to play it cool, you huffed, rolling your eyes. “Just revisions, you know?”

“You always do just fine,” Remus said, smiling. It was your turn to furrow your eyebrows. How would he know that? “I’ve seen the grades you get on them. I mean, you got an outstanding on your garrotting gas revision.”

You shrugged as soon as Professor Slughorn stood in front of the class. He called attention, and Remus threw you one last reassuring smile before turning around.

The class period went by slowly, and without your sketchbook, you actually had to try and take notes. But you couldn’t. Your sketchbook was quite literally in the hands of your worst nightmare: the most curious person you knew.

You knew well that curious minds stuck together and always thought alike.

You burst into the corridor after class was over, desperately looking for Sirius. You knew he just had to be coming back this way. You knew him well enough to know that he had quidditch practice next, just like James, who had been wearing his seeker robes all day.

You spotted him, hopping on one foot and fixing his knee pad as he walked next to said seeker.

“Hi,” you said shakily as you approached him. “I accidentally took your potions book-”

Sirius dropped his foot, a surprised look gracing his face. “I was wondering why mine had drawings in the margins!”

You took a deep breath, gnawing on your lip slightly before hurriedly saying, “Did you happen to take anything of mine?”

“Sorry?” he asked as if he couldn’t hear you.

You swallowed, trying again. “I-It has a dark yellow cover? Leather. First page is blank.” Intentionally, you thought to yourself. You held up your hands. “About this big?”

He exchanged a look with James then shook his head. “Didn’t see it. I can check my books when I get back to my dorm, though.”

You sighed shakily. “O-okay,” you said, sighing again. “If you find it-”

“I’m sure I’ll bump into you again,” Sirius said, nudging you. You didn’t react, so he cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’ll get it back to you.”

“Thank you,” you said pointedly, glancing at James before walking away.

The whole situation sketched you out, and all you could do was hope they didn’t look at it.

“I wonder if she’s any good,” Sirius said, sitting criss-crossed on his bed, staring at the sketchbook. “She seemed… protective.”

“We could always take just a peek,” James suggested. His bed was pulled right against Sirius’ as he was laid on his stomach, heels of his hands supporting his head. “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.”

“I’ll look,” Peter offered. His bed was on the opposite side, but he laid on his side, eyeing the book. “I’ve always wondered what that book is. She never puts it down in potions.”

“We’re not opening it,” Remus sighed, not taking his eyes off the page of his book. “That’s fucked up. It’s like a private journal.”

“Full of drawings,” Sirius stated, crossing his arms. “It’s different.”

“It’s not any different.” Remus dropped his book, huffing as he sat up, “Would you like it if she read through your journals and rifled through your sketchbooks?”

“Well, no, actually,” James answered for Sirius, sitting up. “I wouldn’t mind at all.”

“That’s because all it says is, ‘Lily, Lily, Lily. Why doesn’t Lily love me?’” Remus caught the pillow thrown at his face, throwing it back at James. “Am I wrong?”

“It’s all it says,” Peter said, shielding his face from another one of James’ pillows. “I’ve read it,” he mouthed, but James saw.

“Hey!” He gasped, throwing yet another pillow.

“Give it here,” Remus said, getting up to cross the room. Sirius grabbed it off his bed, holding it to his chest.

“No,” he said immaturely, as if he was a little brother. “I don’t think I will.”

“Seriously, mate,” Remus said, his hand outstretched as soon as he stood at the foot of the bed. “Come on.”

“You’d want to look through someone else’s things,” Sirius said, angling his body away from Remus. “You just don’t want us to look at it because you like her.”

“So what if I do?” Remus shrugged, not caring about his obvious crush. “It’s not right.”

“What if you’re in there?” James asked, his eyebrows raising. “What then?”

His eyebrows furrowed to badly hide his flushing cheeks. “I wouldn’t be-”

The three boys guawaffed loudly.

“Are you kidding me?!” Peter called, sitting straight up. “Mate.”

“Don’t be stupid, Remus,” Sirius groaned, throwing the sketchbook on the bed. “She never stops looking at you.”

Remus’ heart beat loudly in his ears. “Really?” This was news to him.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” James asked rhetorically, grabbing the sketchbook from where it bounced to him. He began thumbing through the pages absentmindedly. “She’s looking at you almost as much as you’re looking at her…” His voice trailed off as he slid his glasses off to the top of his head.

“James-” Remus warned, reaching to grab the sketchbook.

“No, hold on a minute,” James said, slapping his hand away as he showed Sirius. Peter peeked over Sirius’ shoulder, taking a look. The three looked at him in unison, glancing at the sketchbook then at him again.

“What?!” Remus asked, reaching for the sketchbook again, but Sirius grabbed it, looking at it closer.

“It’s you,” Sirius said, meeting his friend’s eyes.

“What?” Remus asked, feeling his heartbeat go quiet. For all he knew it could’ve stopped.

“It’s you!” Peter said, snatching the sketchbook from Sirius and shoving it toward Remus. “She even got the scar on your nose just right.”

James slid his glasses over his eyes as Remus took the sketchbook, his eyes wide.

“Did you know you have a mole on your cheek?” He asked, poking at his own. “Right there? She got that too.”

Remus stared in awe at the drawing in front of him. There was no denying that it was a sketch of him, in all his broody likeness. He was standing in the aisle of the train, leaning against a frame of a cabin door. His arms were crossed over his sweater clad chest, pushed slightly up due to the still-hot September sun.

He could remember that moment. James was on the lookout for Lily, so he dragged Remus into the aisle, wanting someone else to help watch. Remus stood across from him, a scowl ever present on his face. He just wanted to sit after the change two days ago, but instead he stood, hoping Lily would pass sooner rather than later.

As he looked, he saw you sitting, just in the cabin behind James’ left side. You looked like you were reading a book, your head leaning up against the window. He smiled to himself, admiring how you were still in your “muggle” clothes. You glanced at him, but Remus was sure to look away in time, readjusting his scowl and ignoring how the tips of his ears burned red.

Remus shook the memory from his head and quickly shut the sketchbook, holding it out to Sirius. “You better give it back to her.”

Sirius scoffed, taking it. He thumbed through the pages and scoffed again. He stood on his knees at the edge of his bed, pushing it into Remus’ chest. “I think you should give it back to her. You’re in every damn picture.”

Remus’ eyes widened as he took it back, opening it again. He turned each page carefully, his face turning redder and redder the further he went on.

“I thought you said it was fucked up to look through people’s things?” It was James’ turn to be a little brother. Remus threw him a glare.

“Shut up,” he grumbled, shutting the sketchbook. He held it up. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Give it back to her?” Peter suggested, earning a middle finger.

“Give it back to her and tell her you like her,” James suggested earnestly. Remus sighed, staring at the cover of the book. “Your journal is full of her, mate. We all know-”

“James!” Remus shouted as Peter snickered.

“Look,” Sirius said, finally getting off his bed. He clapped an arm around Remus’ shoulder. “She obviously likes you, and you obviously like her. I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

“Yeah,” Remus mumbled. He slipped the sketchbook in his pocket. “Yeah, cheers.”

Sirius got back on his bed as Remus turned his back, walking back towards his bed. He paused, turning around slightly.

“Don’t say anything,” he said, enunciating every word as he specifically made sure to catch each of their eyes. “Please.”

Sirius dramatically put a fist of his heart. “Marauder’s honor.” The other two nodded in agreement.

“Thank you,” Remus said pointedly then turned around, climbing into his bed and shutting the curtains.

You stayed awake all night, staring at the ceiling.

If the boys had gone through it, which you knew they most definitely had, you were never going to live it down. Any semblance of a so-called friendship would be gone.

Worst of all, they were going to make fun of you.

And the self-coined Marauders didn’t take poking fun lightly.

You squeezed your eyes shut, wishing to just disappear.

Remus hardly slept either, staring at the curtain of his bed all night long. The snoring was evident that everyone else had slept except for him.

He had to talk to you today. He had to give the sketchbook back to you. Whether or not he’d say anything about the contents? He hadn’t decided. The idea of it made his palms sweat.

Remus got up long before anyone else in his room did, wanting to avoid any of the boyish hazing he would’ve gotten otherwise. Feeling bold, he got dressed and started his way down to the Hufflepuff barrels to meet you right away.

This was a pressing matter he had to get out of the way instantly.

You rubbed your eyes, yawning as you climbed out of the barrel holes, your hair braided half-heartedly. You looked like a mess, your face pale and your eyebags dark.

“Hey!” Remus called your name, emerging from the corner of the walled off corridor. You turned to face him, suddenly not feeling tired anymore. “I have this for you!”

Your heart dropped. Your sketchbook.

You took two giant steps toward him and grabbed the sketchbook, your eyes wide as you seemingly turned paler. You clutched it to your chest, mumbling, “Thanks.”

Remus cleared his throat as his cheeks tinged pink. “You’re really good at drawing,” he said.

The woozy feeling came back. “You saw?”

He nodded, his bottom lip between his teeth.

“I’m so sorry,” you burst out, trying to hand Remus the sketchbook. “You can burn it, alright? Or just- just destroy all the drawings or whatever you want. I don’t need it anymore, okay? I’m sorry. It was weird, I- I know, but I’m really-”

“No! I’m sorry!” Remus said, his hand meeting your shoulder with a gentle squeeze. “Don’t do that. They’re really well done.”

“What?” You asked breathily, the color rejoining your face in a tomato-y bloom.

“You got the likeness of me down pat,” he said, smiling. Honestly smiling.

“What?”

He quirked an eyebrow, taking the sketchbook from your hand. He opened up to one as if he memorized the page it was on.

It was one of your favorites.

Both you and Remus happened to be in the same class for Astrology. It was night, and he was staring at the sky, ignoring everything that Professor Adair was saying. You were also ignoring everything the professor was saying, sketching Remus’ profile instead.

“This looks like me,” he said, handing you the book as he pointed. “My hair, my nose, my mouth. I honestly don’t know how you captured me like that.”

He was being too kind. Your heart dropped as you took it away, clutching it to your chest again.

“Are you making fun of me?” You asked earnestly.

“What? No! Oh my god, no! I’m being- I’m flattered!” Your expression still looked pained. He sighed, backing away slightly, still smiling. “Do you want to come to Honeydukes with me this weekend?”

“What?” You asked, causing Remus’ smile to grow.

“I think you need your ears cleaned out,” he teased, handing the sketchbook back to you. “Honeydukes? This weekend? I think it’d be fun if you and I went.”

“Are you being serious?” You asked, taken aback.

“Do I look like I’m joking?” he asked, smiling as he shook his head. “Please? It’d be fun! You can read my journal as payback.”

“I’ll go,” You said, a shy smile appearing. “I don’t need to read your journal though.”

“Why not?” Remus shrugged. “It’s all about you anyway.”

“Oh.”

#answered ask #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x fem!reader #fem!artist!reader

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cosmicanamnesis · 1 year

Text

everybody loves a coffeeshop au

[part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9] [part 10] [part 11] [read on ao3]

October 10th

The first time the cute metalhead came into the Waystation, Steve was on bar and didn't catch his name. His order wasn't complicated, but it was long. Three medium black coffees, one small London fog, a large half sweet vanilla latte with soy milk, and a small hot chocolate. He'd paid in cash, leaving the change in the tip jar, and left in a hurry balancing the drink carriers on top of each other. If it hadn't been in the middle of a rush, Steve would've run around the counter and offered to hold the door for him.

Fortunately for Steve, he came in the next day, at the same time, with the same order, and Steve was on register this time.

"And can I get a name for the order?" Steve asked, punching the drinks into the computer.

"Eddie," the man said.

"Awesome. We'll have that all at the end for you," Steve said with a smile. Eddie dropped his change in the tip jar and wordlessly walked away.

One of Steve's favorite parts of the job was getting to talk to beautiful people. Not everyone was, of course, but a few times a day a customer would come in with long curly hair or beautiful eyes or a charming smile and Steve would fall in love with them for thirty seconds and then usually never see them again and it was fine. It was fun. It was harmless.

Eddie had all those things, all the things Steve was a sucker for, but unlike all the others, Eddie kept coming back.

It took a month or so, but eventually everyone in the shop had either taken or made Eddie's order so many times that they all knew what it was and could start making it before he'd even reached the counter. Or rather, immediately abandon Steve and force him to make it.

It was fine with Steve, though. He didn't mind making long orders, and it gave him a chance to chat with Eddie, not that he ever did. If he were a little braver, maybe he would talk, maybe ask where Eddie works, maybe get the story on why he comes in alone every day to carry an entire office's worth of drinks out.

Maybe get his number.

But Steve wasn't braver, and instead of talking to him, he contented himself to just make the drinks and sneak glances whenever he could to admire the way Eddie's hair fell over his shoulders, the way his rings glinted and drew attention to his hands, the way he would sometimes stick his tongue out, just a little, if he was really absorbed in whatever he was doing.

Steve really wanted his number.

December 3rd

“Steve!” Robin yelled from the register. “Your boyfriend’s here!”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Steve huffed, but came up front anyway as the bell on the door chimed. “Hey Eddie. Usual?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Eddie nodded, handing Steve a wad of ones and fives. He dropped the change in the tip jar, like every day, and went to the end of the counter to wait. Steve watched him as he made the order. He wasn’t doing anything, just looking at his phone, but the cold outside had flushed his cheeks bright red and Steve couldn’t help but stare.

“Is it snowing out there yet?” he asked, putting lids on the plain coffees and popping them into a carrier.

“Huh? Oh, no. Is it supposed to?” Eddie seemed surprised that someone was talking to him, but he looked up anyway, slipping his phone back in his pocket.

“That’s what I’ve heard,” Steve shrugged. “Pretty much every old lady in here this morning has complained about their arthritis and the weather, so I just assumed.”

“Oh, yeah?” Eddie laughed, leaning on the counter. Steve wanted to listen to him laugh all day.

“Yeah,” he smiled. “Perks of the job, y’know? Never have to check the weather, just wait until somebody with a bad knee comes in.”

“I always thought that was a myth.”

“I dunno, man,” Steve shrugged again, sliding the drink carriers onto the counter. Eddie was smiling at him, wild curls framing his face. “They only had to be right a couple times to make me a believer.”

“Well,” Eddie said, carefully stacking the drinks on top of each other. “If it starts snowing later, I might start believing it too.”

Steve could’ve sworn Eddie winked at him on his way out.

“Oh my god, that was pathetic,” Robin said, reemerging from the back. “If you’re gonna flirt with him, just flirt with him. Is it snowing yet? Fuck off.”

“Wait, did Steve finally talk to that guy?” Chrissy, their assistant manager, poked her head out of the kitchen.

“Yeah, sorta,” Robin chided.

“I honestly don’t know what you see in him, Steve,” Chrissy said, bringing a tray of pastries up front to put in the case.

“What? What do you mean?” Steve crossed his arms.

“Nothing! Just… He’s kinda weird, isn’t he? Like, standoffish?” She looked to Robin, who nodded. “I mean, you do you, but…”

“Wait, is this why you guys always shove me up front when he’s here?”

The girls looked at each other and then at Steve.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Chrissy admitted.

“You’re the only one that doesn’t mind him, so… He’s your problem,” Robin agreed.

“Proud of you for actually working up the nerve to talk to him, though.”

“Yeah, even if it was just about the stupid weather.”

Sure enough, it started snowing within the hour.

December 30th, Afternoon

Robin had begged Steve to swap shifts with her so she could go on a date. Normally Steve was an opener. He liked it, because he was naturally an early riser and opening meant more time after work to get shit done. But she had begged, and she was his best friend, so even though taking her closing shift messed with his whole routine, he agreed to swap. Plus, it meant he would have all of New Year’s Eve off, and that was pretty cool too.

It also meant accidentally finding out where Eddie worked.

Steve lived close enough to the cafe to walk there, and the walk took him past places that were usually still closed when he came in in the mornings. Antique store, jeweler, boutique, boutique, hair salon, tattoo parlor…

Steve took a couple steps back and looked in the front window of the tattoo place. Eddie happened to look up from whatever he was doing at that exact moment and gave him a confused sort of look. Steve just smiled and gave Eddie a small wave before going back on his way.

Well, it could’ve been more awkward.

#steddie #steddie ficlet #i mean it wont be a ficlet when i'm done with it but w/e #stranger things #stranger things 4 #text

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holdupjack · 6 months

Text

Forgetting You

——————

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fem!Reader

AU: Inspired by ‘Forgetting You’ by Cam

WARNING: ANGST NO COMFORT

——————

Third Person P.O.V:

Seven Years After The War

Hermione lay on the bed in the tiny hotel room as Christmas drew closer and closer every passing day.

They were staying near the Russian Ministry as they took a small vacation for the Holidays. Her future husband's 'idea' of a getaway.

Ron slept beside her as the digital alarm clock flickered to 3:09 A.M. Her eyes blinked slowly at the ceiling as she listened to his soft snoring fill the room.

Her mind was blank, but at the same time, it seemed to be filled to the brim with...something.

She slowly sat up and placed her feet on the carpeted floor. The fibers slipped between the spaces of her toes as she debated getting out of the warm bed.

The room was dark and stuffy, almost suffocating as she sat there. Hermione swallowed the ever-present lump in her throat as she stood up and slowly walked towards the bathroom.

The TV was on but was muted as it played a news broadcast, talking about some tragedy in a part of the world she didn't live in.

The bathroom was only a few feet away, but she felt as though she was dragging a skyscraper by a chin around her feet.

When Hermione opened the door, she flicked on the light and closed her eyes, the sudden brightness blinded her as she shut the entry behind her.

Her head began to throb as she shuffled over to the toilet and shut the lid, sitting down with a small sigh as she rubbed her temples.

She could hear the ice machine humming from somewhere near the small kitchen in their room. It was reassuring as she opened her eyes and adjusted to the light.

Hermione looked to her right and saw her reflection staring back at her. She didn't recognize herself anymore.

She stood up slowly and looked down at the counter to find her old makeup sitting on the corner instead of the one from home. Her hand reached for it but paused a moment halfway through.

Uneasiness filled her chest as she looked between the bag and the ring on her finger. One was shiny and new, while the other was old and ready to be forgotten.

Hermione swallowed the lump again as she grabbed the bag and pulled it over to her. Her fingers slowly unzipped the middle, where she found nothing but old makeup and dust.

Ron must have packed this for her by mistake, she swore she had left it under the sink, hidden behind the bleach and tile cleaner.

Her hand slipped into the bag and pushed away the contents until she saw a face she hadn't seen in years.

"Y/n..."

A small polaroid sat at the bottom, moving with the magic she had cast on it in the fifth year. Long forgotten.

Slowly she pulled it out, dust lay overtop of it from neglect. She quickly wiped it away and let out a shuddered breath.

'Love Birds 🧡

October 11th, 1995'

"I thought I had lost this" she whispers to herself as she stares at it with a desperate longing behind her voice. She recognized Ginny's Orange glitter gel pen.

Y/n played her guitar in the photo as a younger Hermione sat on the floor and watched with a lovestruck expression. She remembered Ginny telling her she snapped the picture while the two of them were stuck in their own little world.

Hermione let out a hardened breath as she placed the Polaroid down and rested her hands on the edge of the counter. She leaned against it and calmed her raging memories and emotions.

"Fuck" she choked out as her bottom lip trembled uncontrollably, she bit it in hopes to stop the sobs that tried to escape.

Everything she had pushed from her mind started to make its way to the forefront. Sending sharp pains to her soul as she remembers everything that she had loved and lost.

Hermione suddenly grabbed the photo and placed it in her palm, threatening to crumple it with a shaking hand.

"Stop haunting me!" She grits out as her eyes start to fill, threatening to spill out onto her dry cheeks.

"It's bad enough that everything reminds me of you! From the morning sun to the midnight moon...you've ruined everything normal in my life" Hermione says as her fingers flexed over it, refusing to crush the misplaced memory. A salty droplet fell on her face as she stared at it with a mix of anger and agony.

A grunt of annoyance left her lips as she threw the photo on the counter and turned around. She wiped her face in a way to clear her mind, but it didn't seem to help as more tears fell without her permission.

The mixed sounds of the AC and air vent cut in and out as they regulated the small space of the hotel bathroom. It didn't drown out her ragged breathing, sadly.

"You just had to be a hero" Hermione mutters as she turns back around and looks at the photo, that is now lying face down on the counter.

"I told you not to let go of my hand, but you went off and got yourself killed!" She spits out with pure anger as she flips it over and looks at the smiling face of Y/n.

"You're supposed to be here with me, not him. It was never supposed to be him." Hermione says as she gestures to the door, where her soon-to-be husband is fast asleep on the other side.

She breathed heavily, waiting as if the memory would reply. Of course, it didn't. It only replayed again.

"I'm left on this spinning rock in the middle of infinite space, without my favorite person, and you're somewhere where I can't see you...don't you get how physically draining these last seven years have been?" Hermione asks as her anger turns into sadness. Tears falling more frequently now that she's stopped holding back.

"You-You...ugh!" She whispered angrily as she tried to regulate her emotions, but they only seemed to spill over more as she stood in that freezing bathroom. Goosebumps rose onto her skin over time, and the bottom of her feet felt like it was burning due to how cold the tile was.

The picture continued to repeat as it showed better times, that we're trying to be forgotten. All Hermione could do was wrap her arms around herself and muffle the sobs that tried to escape her throat.

It took a few minutes before she spoke again, somehow even quieter. Her eyes darted back and forth between the mirror and the counter, trying to decide what to do.

She sighed, finally landing back on her favorite person...or favorite ghost.

"He buys me roses, I hate roses, and he knows that. He buys me white chocolate when I love dark chocolate. He doesn't like to hold hands when that's my favorite thing." Hermione explained as she began to pace slightly. The tile seemed even colder than before, and even more lonely.

"You knew all these things...you made sure to get me tulips, and dark chocolate, and to hold my hand like I'd disappear..." Hermione mumbled as she ran her fingers through her hair, shaking out the tangles in annoyance.

"Then the one time you didn't take my hand...you died"

That realization hurt.

Y/n had separated from Hermione during the battle, telling her she needed to 'go help' the others.

Ten minutes later, Hermione found nothing left but her wand. She was pulled away by Ron when the Nagini began to come their way.

After the war had been won, Hermione spent days clawing through debris and bodies in search of her lover. The smell of decay was still stuck in her nose to this day.

Y/n was never found.

Hermione hoped that she was out there somewhere, that she was hiding in shame from defecting from the war efforts.

But Hermione knew better.

She knew Y/n better.

That's why her mind told her that she was gone, beginning to come to ash that blew away quickly in the wind.

"Did it hurt?" She asked for the photo as silence scrapped at the walls of the bathroom. Threatening to claw out more realizations that she wasn't ready for...she'll never be ready for.

She hid from her grief like an owl in the night, huddling deep in her nest of sorrow. Her head burrowed down into her wings, shielding herself from the painful realities of the world. She wanted nothing more than to disappear into the blackness of the sky, to fly away and never return.

To escape her pain and loss, to leave her grief far below, to start anew, and never again know the weight of sorrow.

Yet, she held on to the love of her life, even as she was about to marry another.

"If I let you go...will I be happy?" She asks as her nails dug into the skin of her forearm, almost spilling blood from her grip.

She knew that answer. A ghost didn't need to come out for her to figure it out.

The photo showed the final moments before it repeated, where Y/n laughed as Hermione began to sing along.

She swore she could almost hear it.

Her eyes closed as she let her memory replay the vocals of that chuckle, hoping to have it embedded in her mind for safekeeping.

"I haven't heard that laugh in a very long...long time" Hermione chuckled sadly, a sigh coming out with it as she kept her eyes closed. Memories started to fill the recesses of her mind as she thought back on the night before they had gone back to the castle.

"Do you ever wonder what life will be like if either of us doesn't make it?" Y/n had asked as they lay on the small cot together, Hermione had her face buried against her neck. She could still smell nature and firewood that was stuck to her skin.

"Don't even put that into the universe, please" Hermione had whispered back as she held her girlfriend tighter, the boys were talking by the campfire outside.

"It's a valid question" Y/n replied as her hand trailed up and down her spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Even seven years later, in a hotel bathroom thousands of miles away from that forest.

"It's a scary question" Hermione retorted as she looked up at her, her lips brushing the underside of Y/n's jaw. She could still taste that stupid fizzy drink she loved from Hogsmeade.

Older Hermione chuckled at that little remembrance. Her hand reached up and touched her lips in a small attempt at feeling her lost love kiss again.

"How would you like me to phrase it then Granger?" Y/n asked with a small chuckle as she looked down and stared at Hermione with a playful gaze.

"Don't even bring it up" she replied as she leaned up and kissed her to shush the raging thoughts in that once beautiful mind of hers.

Of course, that only worked for a moment.

"Come on, we have to talk about the possibilities," Y/n says when they pull away, and Hermione crawls up to her, resting her forehead against hers.

"As long as you keep your hand in mine, we'll either go down together or survive"

Y/n knew better than to keep poking Hermione about a topic she didn't like. Which was, of course, death.

Hermione looked back at the mirror, and for a moment she swore Y/n stood behind her, smiling.

She took a few deep breaths, focusing her mind back on reality as the light hummed softly above her head.

Her hand grasped the photo gently as she shut off the light and exited the bathroom, walking into the small area that was only lit by the muted TV.

Ron was still in his deep sleep, snoring like nothing was wrong. When everything was wrong.

"I can't do this" Hermione whispers to his unconscious form as she stares at him. Ron's breathing was slow and calm, while hers was fast and earth-shattering.

Her ring finger seemed to burn as the cold metal latched to her skin, trying to stake its claim when it had nothing to take from her.

One person had claimed every part of her body with kisses and caresses full of promises of a life together that hadn't come.

Hermione placed the photo on the dresser as she ripped out a piece of hotel stationary paper and took the pen beside it.

She didn't cry, but guilt did fill her chest. She had tried her best to forget Y/n for him, but it wasn't fair to be unhappy with someone who was nothing but kind to her.

'I'm sorry'

The ring bounced slightly when she placed it on top of the note. Her eyes fell back to the photo when she grabbed her wallet from the bedside table and placed it inside. She didn't want to lose it again.

Hermione moved around the room silently as she packed her duffel bag and changed into better clothing. It only took her ten minutes or so to be standing near the door, looking back at Ron's sleeping form with a regretful expression.

"Goodbye" she whispers as she slips through the doorway and shuts it quietly behind her. The hallway was dim and vacant as she walked a few feet before apparating.

She found herself at the doors of The Three Broomsticks, it was loud inside as the smell of peppermint and cinnamon filled her nose before she even walked in.

Her duffel bag made a noise when Hermione hiked it up before opening the entrance. No one paid attention to her as she walked to the bar and took a seat at it.

Madam Rosmerta spotted her as soon as she sat down and placed her bag near her feet. She walked over with a knowing smile as she glanced down at her finger. Bare.

"What can I get you Ms.Granger?" she asks as she leans over the bar to hear her better. Hermione thought a moment and looked back at her with a small smile in return.

"Do you still sell that drink that she liked?" Hermione asks, silently confirming what everyone knew was going to happen when they saw the engagement announced in the newspaper.

"Of course" Rosmerta replies as she pushes away from the bar and walks to the back. Hermione pulled out her wallet and went to pay when she returned with the mug but was quickly thwarted with a simple 'it's on the house'.

Hermione was soon left to her devices as she took a sip of the drink, the taste of Y/n's lips raced to the front of her mind.

Her wallet laid on the bar top, and the corner of the Polaroid stuck out, enticing her to look at it again. So she did.

It now sat between her and the mug, moving in the dim lights as it replayed for maybe the millionth time.

As time went on, the cup eventually emptied, and Hermione found herself tracing Y/n's face with a heart full of ache.

"How are you?"

She looked up to find Rosmerta filling her mug again, which Hermione tried to pay for but was quickly stopped.

"I don't know how to answer that" she replied as the older woman looked down at the picture giving a sad smile.

She and Y/n had grown close while she was alive, or before she went missing. Rosmetra took it hard when she got the news.

"Sometimes I can still see you two in that booth" the older witch whispers as she points to a vacant table in the corner. Hermione chuckled softly at the memories.

When they looked back at one another, Madam Rosmetra gave a puzzled look when she saw the expression of conflict that laced the former Gryffindor's face.

"What is it?" she asked to which Hermione looked back at the photo and sighed softly. A single thought had been echoing in her mind since the war ended..and maybe it was just delusional hope.

"Do you...do you think she could still be alive?"

That question has been asked many times by different people. It was strange that Y/n was the only body that hadn't been found, but officials said she was most likely destroyed by one of the many vaporizing spells.

"Maybe, there's nothing wrong with a little hope" Rosmetra replied as Hermione looked back up at her, who now seemed to be thinking deeply about something.

"Do you mind if I post something on the bulletin board?" Hermione asks as she gestures over to the hanging board near the doorway. Rosmetra nodded as she was called over by another customer.

Now left alone, she grabbed her duffel bag and pulled out a small piece of paper, and a pen. Her heart thumped as she scribbled something quick but to the point.

Hermione downed the last of the drink and stood up, leaving a big tip for Rosmetra on the bar as well. She strolled over to the bulletin and found a spare push-tack, her eyes wandering to find an open space.

She soon hung her note on the board, taking a step back to look at it. It was in the middle, the Polaroid paperclipped to the piece of paper that simply said:

'Come Home - H'

Hermione stared at it another moment before slipping out into the cold night, the streetlights were dim as she walked towards an Inn down the street.

Her heart thumped softly as she thought about a reunion that would never come. At least not in life.

"I'll never forget you" she whispered into the air, her breath puffing visibly in front of her.

Even as she walked away, she could still hear Y/n's laugh as the Polaroid went through its endless loop.

A part of Hermione knew that her laugh would welcome her into the next journey of life. As much as she hated to think it, it seemed like paradise.

Maybe...

#harry potter #hermione granger #hermione granger x reader #lesbian #fanfic #angst

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echo-bleu · 6 months

Note

Disability pride request? Two characters of your choice hanging out, maybe one using two forearm crutches and one using two canes. They can be friends or partners - I just generally love seeing disabled characters interactng with one another!

How about three disabled characters?

Once upon a time @camille-lachenille sent me a prompt about Míriel having Ehler-Danlos Syndrome. I had already sketched a disabled Celegorm with EDS in mind and, thinking about how it's genetic, had an epiphany about Celebrimbor (and the meaning of his name) and I drew him as well. So I wrote a fic about all three of them dealing with chronic pain, but I still hadn't drawn Míriel. That oversight is now fixed!

They have more in common than just chronic illness xD.

This is still titled "The EDS gang" in my files, I'm going to stick to it. Set sometime in Fourth Age Valinor, when most things are good again...

Disabled Tolkien characters series

(Feel free to send me more disability prompts! I love drawing them.)

More ramblings about disability aids that devolved into bullet-point headcanons under the cut. ID and transcription at the end, but they're also in alt text.

[CW: this is all fairly light but discussion of death and trauma and you know, everything that comes with these three.]

I do not know how to make comics. I'm sure that's very obvious but, you know, learning new things and all that. One thing I learned was that my usual style of rendering does not work with it as well so I rendered them entirely twice.

It was meant to be day 21 and 22 of my October challenge, because surely I can draw and colour a full page in a day (spoilers: no). In the end it was a combined 15 hours of work over 3 and a half days because I made it as complicated as I possibly could 😭 Still, I had fun and learned a lot.

Note: Ehlers-Danlos syndrome is a connective tissue disorder, affecting basically how your cells are glued together. There are a lot of different symptoms (and different types of EDS) but a frequent one is joint pain and hypermobility, and it's at least partly inherited.

Míriel:

Red was Míriel's colour first. She's not into gaudy things and rarely wears vivid colours, but almost always something red. She barely wears any jewellery since reembodiment, mostly for sensory reason (She is very autistic. That's something she gave Fëanor, Curufin, Caranthir, Ambarussa and Celebrimbor, at least.)

She died of post-partum (and general) depression and energy depletion from childbirth or something, but the chronic illness that was taking all of her energy and keeping her from her craft certainly didn't help.

Also pregnancy was horribly rough on her, partly because EDS can be affected by hormonal changes.

She's actually been better since reembodiment, because she has better accommodations (Finwë did his best but he was very lost) and also a Vala on hand who makes her very good painkilling tea.

She wears knitted compression gloves that she designed to help with hand pains.

Her wheelchair is of Noldor make, but I'm sure Celebrimbor will have suggestions for improving it.

The tapestry that she is weaving is actually this painting of Finrod that I did a while ago. I figure that she's representing calmer, nicer things now that she doesn't have to weave her grandchildren's downfall and deaths.

Celegorm:

He was in a relationship with Oromë before the Exile. After his reembodiment, it took them a while by they talked it out and forgave each other. Oromë doesn't quite get elves, but he's really supportive.

He has a pair of wolf-head canes carved by Nerdanel. He alternatively uses both, just one and sometimes none depending on activity/pain level.

He wears bandages as compression garments because this is a world without elastane. His leggings have reinforced knees for support.

He's always heard about Míriel having the same thing as he does from Finwë, and he knew that when he started showing symptoms, Fëanor was terrified that he'd fade too. So for a long time, Míriel's story was kind of hanging above his head.

That's why it takes him a while to go seek her out after he's reembodied. Celebrimbor understands why it's important to him and he pushed him to it a little bit, so Celegorm dragged him along.

They're going to get along great. Míriel is both the quintessential grandmother and also she has a twisted sense of humour that Celegorm will just love.

Celebrimbor:

Celegorm was always his favourite uncle, and they became very close when Celebrimbor started having symptoms in the early years in Exile, and Celegorm stayed with Curufin in Himlad for him.

It took Celebrimbor a while to forgive him after Returning (not as long as Curufin but still) but they've gone back to being really close.

He was really unlucky with reembodiment: while he wasn't reborn with the physical aspect of his torture, the memory of pain and the trauma made his chronic pain a lot worse than it was before, and he can no longer walk unaided.

He designed the silver ring and wrist splints back in Eregion with Narvi's help, and ended up literally living up to his name (which means "silver fist/grasping hand").

Paradoxically these were a great motivation for him to work through his trauma and go back to the forge, because he couldn't find a silversmith in Valinor who could make good enough ones for him, even with all of his sketches and specifications.

A lot of his work since reembodiment has been designing and making disability aids for people.

He uses platform crutches to spare his hands as much as possible. He invented and designed them, of course, as well as the KAFO brace that he wears here. He's also a part-time wheelchair user.

He is still wearing dwarven beads in his hair. He obviously didn't bring anything back from Middle-Earth but he asked Gimli to make them for him in remembrance of Narvi. His tunic is also dwarven-inspired.

He is pretty chill about Sauron here. I don't know if there was a redemption (I have feelings about @chthonion's The Harrowing and @mynameisjessejk's Otter Mayhem) or if he's just been through enough elf-therapy to be able to joke about it. Celegorm's sense of humour is just Like That.

Celegorm and Celebrimbor are about to try Vairë's special painkilling tea for the first time 👀

Between all of them they should really open a disability aids shop or something. They just might! Míriel doesn't really ever leave Vairë's house but I think Celegorm and Celebrimbor will keep visiting her a lot, and eventually all of the grandkids will as well.

Image description and transcriptions:

Two digital comic book pages.

Image 1: The first case takes the whole width, showing two pairs of feet with each two canes/crutches on a tiled floor, with a speech bubble saying "Do you think she'll want to see us?"

The second line has two cases in 2/3 and 1/3 format. The first shows two hands in red fingerless gloves working on a tapestry on a loom. The second shows part of a light-skinned face in profile, with curly white hair. Three speech bubbles say "My love?" "Um?" "There are people here asking for you."

The bottom part has one case off-center showing the same hand undoing the brake of a wheelchair, with a speech bubble saying "Your grandson and your great-grandson." above and one saying "I'll be right here." below. Then a full-length off-case portrait of Miríel, a light-skinned elf with shoulder-length curly white sitting in a wheelchair and pushing herself. She's wearing a pale pink embroidered dress with red accents, red fingerless gloves and elbow pad and brown boots and smiling.

Image 2: A single large case shows two elves standing in a room with a tiled floor, with a large door and two tables behind them. There are thread spools on one table and a tea set on the other. One elf, Celebrimbor, is brown-skinned and slightly chubby, with long black hair in a braided bun, wearing a red tunic and dark green pants. He is leaning on two decorated platform combo crutches made of wood and metal, with a KAFO brace on his leg. He wears finger and hand silver splints. The other elf, Celegorm, is pale and has long white hair in a high ponytail with small braids, he has tattoos on his neck and arms and he wears bandages on his shoulders, elbows and wrist. He wears a green tunic, leggings and wrap-around gaiters. He is leaning on a cane and holding up another cane, pointing at the first elf. Both canes have handles carved in the shape of wolf heads.

The speech bubbles are arranged around and below them, giving this dialogue, with the speakers distinguished by the shape of the bubble (the parts in parentheses are smaller text in the bubbles):

Celegorm: "My lady, my name is Tyelkormo, and this is my nephew Tyelpë." Miríel: "I know who you are, my wonderful children. Come sit." Celebrimbor: "That would be nice, thank you." Miríel: "Vairë, my love, would you make us some tea?" Celebrimbor: "My lady!" Celegorm: "A Vala who can make tea! (I could never get Oromë to do it.)" Miríel: "It was a long domestication process." Vairë (off screen): "Hey!" Celebrimbor: "Instant hot water! That’s nice. (I wonder if I could replicate that.)" Miríel: "She makes wonderful hot water bottles." Celegorm: "Oromë just uses his hands as hot pads." Celebrimbor: "Ew, I didn’t need to know that." Celegorm: "What? Just because your Maia burns everything he touches–" Celebrimbor: "Shut up." Miríel: "You must both tell me everything about yourself. And your partners!"

147 notes · View notes

writing-blog-iguess · 8 months

Text

Online Match 5

Summery: Seeing their dad went as much as Y/N excepted. At least there's breakfast with Jason to look forward to.

Warning: swearing, fluff (if I’m missing other warnings, let me know)

A/N: Mm, this took me longer then I wanted to and I'm not sure how I feel about this one. Originally, I wasn't going to write this but I felt I needed to. And here it is. Enjoy! And as always, feedback is always welcome.

Words: 4651

ao3 Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

@xoxoyourdoll

-------

October 10

You groaned as the early morning sun peeked through your windows and past the curtains and landed on your face. Covering your head with the blanket, you turned over onto your stomach, hoping to get some more sleep. But sleep was gone and you had too many thoughts running through your mind to actually sleep. So, you laid there under the blanket and let your mind wander to what the day had planned for you.

But once you started thinking about Jason, your thoughts stalled and you wondered what he was up to. And as if you had conjured him from your thoughts, your phone dinged with the ringtone you had set for him. Smiling, you stuck out your arm from the blanket and reached for the phone.

Rolling onto your side, you curled into yourself and squinted at the sudden light assaulting your eyes, you blinked at the time.

Jason (6:31 am) Good morning Is Metropolis always this bright? I don’t think I can live here if it is It hurts my eyes

Y/N You know Its your day off SLEEP

Jason Nah don’t think I can I get to see you in a couple of hours

Y/N Shut up I don’t think you’re capable of sleeping longer the eight It’s not in your blood

Jason Somehow, your right

Y/N Always am

Jason Why are you awake? You strike me as someone who loves sleep

Y/N I do love sleep But only in my bed Anywhere else, no thank you Its not the right kind of bed

Jason I hear you So, what’s the plan for today?

Y/N Well, I’m going to stay in bed until someone kicks me out Then have some coffee

Jason That’s not breakfast

Y/n Have someone tell me that isn’t breakfast

Jason Smartass

Y/N Then I’m going to pack everything I brought Go to the hospital when visiting hours start See my dad for a bit Then have actually breakfast with a stranger Then go home with said stranger

Jason I hope you know this stranger And that he treats you well You deserve the world

Y/N Man, I hope he knows that Otherwise I’m just going to have to kick his ass

Jason I bet you’d win

Y/N I’m tougher than I look So maybe

Jason Let me know when you’re done at the hospital We’ll meet up somewhere

Y/N Can do

You stood in front of the building, squinting at it as you debated whether you wanted to go in or not. Well, you knew you didn’t want to, it was a matter if you should or not.

Sighing in defeat, you dropped your head and made your way in. Knowing full well you were going to head if you didn’t visit your dad. You walked through the halls of the hospital and too soon you found your way to his room.

You peaked in, noticing a nurse was checking up on him, while he was paying attention to the tv in the corner. Your eyes roamed towards the tv and snorted when you noticed it was one of those fixit or sell it shows. No matter where he was, he always managed to find shows like these.

The noise drew the attention of the nurse. She gave you a smile before turning to your dad. “I’ll be out of your hair in a moment, dear. Just need to check on your father.” How she knew that was your dad, you didn’t know and didn’t want to find out.

“That’s okay,” you said as you set your backpack down by the door before walking in. “Take your time.” You stood by the side of the bed, watching the tv as you waited for the nurse to leave. Once she was done, she sent you a smile and told your dad that if he needs her, to press the call button.

He waved her worry away and turned to look at you once the nurse was out of the room. “Surprised to see you here,” he said in lieu of a greeting. “Didn’t think I’d see you until Thanksgiving.”

“Didn’t find out you had surgery until yesterday morning,” you answered with a shrug. “When was it booked anyways?”

“A month ago.”

Ah, another thing they forgot to tell you about. You understand why your dad wouldn’t mention it, you barely talk as it is. But your mom? Or siblings? You talk to them more than your dad, at least they could have mentioned it. Trying not to let it sour your mood even more, you pushed the hurt away and turned to look at him.

He looked tired, like he hadn’t slept much last night. You suppose with the surgery that took half the day, and the pain he might be in, it would make sense if he didn’t sleep. And he always looked tired whenever you came home for the weekend, so it wasn’t much different. But other than that, he had more colour in his face then the last time you saw him. That was a start at least.

“How are you feeling anyways?” you asked, as he turned back to the tv.

“Fine.”

“In pain?” you asked again, he just shrugged. Kay, awesome, you thought as you looked around the room, trying to think of something to say. “Working on anything new at home?”

“Torn down the porch, thought I might redo it,” he answered and you raised your eyebrows in wonder.

“Have enough energy for that?”

“I rest when I can and I’m getting your brother to help.”

“Right.” And the conversation stalled from there. Sighing, you took out your phone and held in a wince as you looked at the time. Fifteen minutes, you were only here for ten minutes and you had planned to be here longer. But there was nothing to talk about and he seemed more invested in the show than talking to you.

Well, can’t say that you tried. With that thought, you made the decision to cut the visit short. You only hoped your mom would understand why you left before she came to the hospital.

“Where’s your mom?” he asked before you could make your move to leave. The question caught you off guard and you stood there without answering for a minute. He turned to look at you with a pointed look, waiting for an answer.

“Uh, home. She said she had a few things she needed to do before coming here,” you answered, scratching your neck as you thought. “She wanted to pack you some clothes and essentials for your stay here, buy some books and whatnot. She’ll be here around lunch, I think. Sonner if she gets everything done.”

He nodded and silence settled into the room once more.

“See you around Dad,” you finally said when the silence became too much.

“What? Leaving me already?” he asked, finally turning to you and watching as you backed towards the door.

You shrugged, bending down to pick up your backpack as you got to the door. “You’re busy-” not really but you weren’t going to point that out. “-and I have a train to catch.” Not the truth, your train wasn’t until a little later, but he didn’t need to know that. “I’ve got class after lunch and everything I need is still back in my apartment.”

“Alright, see you at Thanksgiving,” he dismissed with a wave, as if you were an annoying fly. Which sometimes you wondered if you were.

“Yeah, see you then,” you mumbled as you turned and all but ran out of the room. The whole exchange has you exhausted and you want to skip breakfast with Jason to take a nap. But you won’t.

You don’t know why you bother hoping things will change between the two of you. It never will, no matter how nice or well behaved you are, he’ll treat you with indifference. Like you don’t matter.

But sometimes there will be moments that make you feel special. He’ll treat you like everyone else. Like you mean something to him, that you matter. It makes you feel seen and not so alone. Those you keep close to your heart, because they usually get ruined minutes later when his mood turns.

Sighing, you make your way out of the hospital and towards the park across the street. Looking around, you find a secluded bench and quickly walk towards it.

Dropping your backpack down, you sit and pull up your knees hiding your face in them and breathe. You take a moment just to breathe, trying to calm down and push away the hurt.

A few moments later, once you feel a little better, you pull out your phone. Going to the only person you want to talk to at the moment.

Y/N (8:30 am) I hate hospitals

Jason Yeah they are not fun

Y/N Had your fair share of experience?

Jason You know it

Y/N I’m not even going to ask

Jason Not fun memories How’s your dad?

Y/N Fine

Jason Ready for breakfast?

Y/N Not really I just want to take a nap But food does sound good

Jason Good I was gonna make you eat if you said no

Y/N I have no doubt you would

Jason Where are you anyways? I’ll meet you there

Y/n Uh, at the park across the street I think it’s on 5th?

Jason You don’t know where you are?

Y/n I know where I am I just don’t memorize the street names

Jason Wow Not to worry, Conner knows the place

Y/N Conner?

Jason My friend whom I went to see yesterday Maybe you know him

Y/n Just because I’m from Metropolis, doesn’t mean I know everyone

Jason Conner Kent, went to Metropolis High?

Y/n OH Yeah I know him We didn’t talk much though so I can’t say I know him He was a wannabe journalist from what I can remember

Jason What do you mean he was a wannabe journalist?

Y/n His articles were okay But it felt like he was trying too hard? Like he was trying to prove a point or something I don’t know, he was better behind the camera But what do I know? I’m an engineer major not a literature major

Jason You read the school newspaper?

Y/n Yeah, my friend was the editor for it Had me read some of the articles before she published them

Jason WANNABE JOURNALIST EXCUSE ME I POURED MY HEART AND SOUL INTO THEM I EVEN HAD HELP FROM MY COUSIN AND HE WORKS AT THE DAILY PLANET

Y/N Oh OH NO JASON WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME

Jason I'M NOT DONE WITH YOU My articles were FANTASTIC Not my fault you can’t enjoy good writing Like you can do better? Please

Y/N I have Who do you think wrote the advice column

Jason THAT WAS YOU?! Shit, never mind I stand corrected

Y/n Got suckered into it But yeah, that was me

Jason You two are terrible I hope you know Besides I thought it was implied that he was with me?

Y/N Nooooooooo I’m so tired I didn’t even comprehend words

Jason That’s a pretty big word for someone’s who’s sleep deprived

Y/n Shut up Why did you tell him?

Jason I did no such thing He’s nosey and read over my shoulder Took my phone before I could even stop him

Y/n Welp, I’m going to end it now Goodbye cruel world Twas nice knowing you

Jason Don’t even Conner wants your number Apparently he’s not done yelling at you for what you said

Y/n No

Jason Aw come on! Please? We can talk about anything! But you know AFTER I yell at you

Y/n Oh in that case Hard pass

Jason I’ll get your number eventually

Y/N Stop letting Conner steal your phone

Jason I would But it’s hard when he’s fucking faster then you

Y/n Really You look like you run everyday

Jason I do But Conner’s a different fucking breed

Y/N Alright sure I’m just gonna put my phone away and wait for you in silence If that’s okay with you

Jason Not a problem Gives me time to beat Conner

Y/N …right

---

“Do you think I can meet ‘em?” Conner asked, leaning towards him, hoping to catch a glimpse of his phone. Jason shoved him away before sending out a final message. “They seem great if you came all the way here to spend time with them.”

“Not today,” he finally answered as he stuffed his phone in his pocket, “they’ve had a tough morning. I think meeting new people is the last thing they want right now.”

That worried Conner and he turned to study Jason as he asked, “everything okay?” Jason shrugged.

“Not my story to tell, but they don’t have the greatest relationship with their dad.”

“But they’re okay now? Right? They don’t need any help to get away or anything?”

“Yeah, they’re fine. Probably just really tired,” Jason mused, and he hoped you would get some rest on the train ride back. Though he doubted it, you had said that you don’t sleep on public transportation.

“That’s good,” Conner said, looking straight. “Hate to have to beat up someone’s dad.”

Jason snorted at the thought but kept his thoughts to himself. “Sure.”

“I would you know,” he said, stretching his arms out behind his head. “So, if they don’t want to meet new people, how come you guys are meeting for the first time today?”

“This isn’t the first time we’re meeting,” Jason said, and could feel the curious glance Conner shot him. “We met two nights ago. Y/N was getting mugged and after they called me and asked if I wanted to meet up.”

“Weird that you’re the first person they called after something like that,” Conner mused, mind drifting back to high school. “Usually when they need someone, they call their mom or sister.”

“Yeah, but their family lives here. They moved to Gotham once they graduated high school,” Jason explained, and Conner made a noise at the news.

“But why Gotham?”

“I don’t really know.” They lapsed into silence as the two continued walking, two blocks away from the park, Jason spoke up. “What do you mean by that? They didn’t get in trouble at school, did they?”

“Nah, they kept to themselves most of the time. Other times, they hung out with their friends,” Conner explained. “They had a routine and you could always find them in the library hiding away. They weren’t really talkative but once you got to know them, they weren’t bad.”

“I thought you guys weren’t friends.”

“We weren’t, but they hung out in the newsroom after school and sometimes we’d talk,” Conner said, smiling. “They were cool in their own way. Would like their number so we can build that friendship that could have been.”

“No,” Jason said and before Conner could argue his phone rang. Digging it out of his pocket, he answered it before saying it was Clark. Jason tuned out the conversation and let his mind drift to breakfast, hoping it would bring you into a better mood. After this weekend, you deserved it.

“Clark needs me,” Conner said, bringing Jason out his thoughts. “Tell Y/N to feel better and that I still want their number.”

“Not going to happen,” Jason grumbled. Conner laughed, hitting Jason’s back a little too hard judging by the grunt.

“You sound like a jealous boyfriend,” he said and didn’t let Jason dwell on that thought for too long. “Anyways, just keep walking straight and you’ll see the park. See you around Jason,” he said, turning and left.

“Uh, bye,” Jason said, watching his friend walk away.

The walk was too short for Jason to think over what Conner said. He walked into the park and scanned the area until he found a familiar mop of hair.

Smiling, he took out his phone and snapped a picture of you to send. He watched as you lifted your head from the back of the bench and fished out your phone from your pocket.

He laughed at the confusion written on your face as you opened his message. He stood still as you whipped your head up and looked around the park until you found what you were looking for. When your eyes connected with his, Jason’s heart lurched as your eyes lit up.

Happy. You were happy, and Jason’s stomach squirmed at the genuine happiness he brought you.

When was the last time someone looked happy to see him? The thought raced through his mind. Who actually wanted to see him that wasn't his family? And why did it make him happy that just seeing him made your mood better?

He shoved the questions from his mind, and made his way over to you. He can think it over later, right now he has breakfast plans and he has every intention of making that happen.

As he walked towards you, you stood from the bench, bouncing on your feet a little. As if you couldn’t believe he actually came here.

When he was close enough, you let gravity take over and fell into his chest. Jason grunted at the impact and tried not to wince as it stung the bruise on his chest. Why he agreed to spar with Conner last night, he had no idea.

The weight on her chest brought comfort for Jason, and wondered if it did the same thing for you. “Morning,” he said, brings his arms up and around your shoulders.

“Morning,” you mumbled into his shirt, and the tension in your shoulders relaxed. Jason could only smile. “Conner isn’t here is he?”

“No, he cousin needed him for something,” Jason answered, chuckling a little when your shoulders dropped some more. “Ready for breakfast?”

You nodded into his shirt, and Jason spun around so he was standing next to you, one arm still around your shoulder. You didn’t mind, and leaned into the touch.

His smile only grew and he bent down to pick up your backpack before walking. “C’mon, I saw a breakfast diner on the way here.”

The walk was silent and Jason found he didn’t mind silence with you. It’s comfortable, safe, safe enough that it quiets his mind.

“So, how was your morning?” you said after finding a seat in the diner and after the waitress left. Jason shrugged and started fidgeting with his menu.

“Good,” he answered and you raised your eyebrow in question. “What?”

“Not much of a talker huh?” you questioned, trying not to smile at the put off look he was giving you.

“I’m not much for small talk,” he answered with a snort. “Which is wild considering that we’ve been talking.”

“Yeah, but there’s a huge difference between texting and talking face to face.”

“Yes, but we’ve met once and facetimed yesterday,” Jason reminded, “so it shouldn’t be awkward.”

“It’s only awkward if you make it awkward,” you said, tilting your head a little. “Unless you’re just an awkward person in general.”

Jason narrowed his eyes and leaned over to poke you on the forehead. “Please. You're the awkward one between the two of us.”

“And if I am?”

“Then you are,” Jason said with a shrug. He squinted his eyes, debating whether or not to tease you. By the way you were eyeing him, he couldn’t help but smile. “So, still want to kiss my stupid face?” he asked, and had the joy of watching your face turn red. You sank in your chair and pulled the scarf you were wearing over your chin.

“I take back what I said,” you muttered, “you're just stupid. And that’s at least a third date.”

“Then I can’t wait until I take you out next time,” he said with a smile as you dropped your scarf from your face.

“Meeting up the other day doesn’t count as a date,” you state, leaning onto the table.

“It counts to me.”

“Then you’re wrong. We met up because I didn’t want to be alone and you were the first person I thought of.”

“I feel special.”

“And-” you continue as if you didn’t hear him say anything, “-I was crying half that time. That doesn’t sound like a date to me. Which was a bit embarrassing once I thought about it yesterday, by the way. Who cries on someone they’ve never met before?”

“Doesn’t matter if you were crying, it’s not going to turn me away. I’m here, aren’t I?” he questioned, you nodded and he continued, “and besides, I’ve seen you sick before. And that wasn’t a good look on you.”

“…what?” you asked and Jason realized his mistake and winced. “What does that mean?”

“I, uh,” Jason stuttered, trying to come up with a lie of some sort. But the way you were looking at him, had him coming up blank. You leaned over the table to cover part of his head, squinting at him with one eye open. After you stared at him for what felt like forever, you dropped your hand and leaned back.

“You were the delivery driver, weren’t you?” you asked, and all Jason could do was nod. “Son of a bitch. I knew there was something familiar about you. But I was too sick to figure out why. So, did you make the soup? Is that why you wouldn’t tell me what restaurant it came from.”

“Yeah, hope you don’t mind,” he said and relaxed when you waved his worry way.

“Nah, it’s okay. I trusted you enough not to do anything funny, and you didn’t,” you said. “Besides, it was really good soup.”

Jason smiled and just as he was about to say something, their waitress dropped off their drinks. The two of you ordered, and waited until she left before continuing the conversation.

“You know she’s flirting with you,” you pointed out.

“Maybe, but I only have eyes for you,” he said, and smiled as you blushed again. “You know, red really is a good colour on you.”

“You need to stop.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Kissing me became a fifth date thing now,” you said, “you have to wait until the fifth date and I have to say it counts as the fifth date.”

Jason crossed his arms on the table and leaned in with a smirk. “Are you sure? You’ll be missing out.”

“Maybe so, but you will be too.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Are you telling me you're a good kisser?” You flushed, and hid in your scarf again, shaking your head.

“I could be a horrible kisser,” you muttered.

“Let me be the judge of that.”

“Date five,” you sang.

“Do hang outs count?” Jason asked, and you scrunch your nose in confusion. “As dates or just towards getting to kiss you?”

“Oh. I don’t know, guess we’ll have to wait and see,” you answered after a moment of thought. You leaned back into the booth as you saw your waitress coming towards you.

Jason followed your lead, and soon your food was set in front of you. You watched as she gave Jason a smile, trying to flirt with him but all he did was give his thanks and turned to his food.

She left with a huff, and a giddy feeling that he didn’t seem that all interesting. Before you could put too much thought on that, you noticed Jason’s hands as he unfolded his napkin.

You tilted your head slightly and wondered how he got his scars. Not wanting to bother him about it now, you turned to your food, missing the knowing look Jason shot you.

Breakfast was comfortable, you talked about whatever came to mind and avoided the topics neither of you wanted to talk about. And all too soon, breakfast was over and paid for and you found yourself walking towards the train station.

“So, how many classes do you have today?” Jason asked.

“Uh, one I think,” you answered, but you weren’t quite sure. “I’ll have to check when I get back home. Why?”

“Just wondering is all.”

“You don’t have anything planned, do you? No surprise visits with soup in hand?” You teased, nudging his side with your elbow. Jason laughed and shook his head.

“No surprise visits,” he promised, “today at least. Can’t promise about visits in the near future though.”

“As long as I’m not sick, then go for it. But bring food please. Chances are I’ll be hungry,” you said with a smile. Jason chuckled but agreed all the same.

Once you neared the station, a comfortable silence settled between the two of you. You walked through the station, lost in thought and Jason made sure the two of you made it to your seat’s safety. “Penny for your thoughts?” Jason asked, shaking you out of your thoughts.

Blinking, you turned towards him in confusion. “What?”

“You’re thinking about something pretty hard there,” Jason said, poking your forehead to emphasize his statement. “What’s got you distracted?”

“Can I see your hands?” you asked instead of answering. Jason raised an eyebrow in surprise but he held up a hand for you to take. You weren’t sure how to put it into words, so you did so in action instead. Gently taking his hand in yours, you traced the scars that littered over his palms and fingers and wondered how far they went.

Jason watched you as you studied them, and held in a shiver as you lightly traced them with your finger. He wasn’t sure what you thought of them and a part of him didn’t want to know. But a bigger part of him was curious, wondered if you thought they were ugly and wanted nothing to do with him when you knew the true story behind the scars.

“Life didn’t treat you well, huh?” you whispered, eyes still on his hand. He hummed in agreement, and wanted to pull away when you traced one that led up his arm, that was underneath his jacket sleeve. But you stopped when you reached the hem of the sleeve, and moved your hand until it was holding his. “Well, I hope life will treat you better than it did before,” you wished with so much confidence, Jason believed what you said would come true. He hoped it would.

Still holding his hand, you reached down to your backpack to retrieve a book and sat back to read, like nothing had happened. But something did for Jason and maybe for you too, Jason wasn’t sure. But whatever happened between the two of you at that moment, he hoped it was something good. And maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. But as long as you were there with him, it didn’t matter to him.

He studied you for a moment before shaking his head and sat back. You continued to surprise him.

Originally, you wanted to spend the train ride back home doing homework, or reading or anything else. But the warmth and the feeling of being safe that came from Jason beside you, and the fact that you hadn’t slept in the last couple of days, had your eyes closing on their own. Your head dropped onto his shoulder gently, your book falling out of your hands as you let sleep claim you.

Jason snatched your book before it could fall to the floor, and looked over when he felt weight on his shoulder. He smiled softly as you slept, and moved to sit more comfortably on the seat, wanting you to sleep peacefully. “I’ll protect you,” he promised.

And he meant every word.

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